Left Out
by Rina76
Summary: Loz doesn't want to be left out of his brothers' secret fun...
1. Chapter 1

Title - Left Out  
Author - Rina  
Rating - M  
Pairing - Kadaj/Yazoo, Loz/Yazoo, Kadaj/Loz, eventual threesome Kadaj/Loz/Yazoo  
Warning - This fic contains incest; brothers having a willing sexual relationship. If you find the idea distasteful please do not read.  
Disclaimer - I do not own Final Fantasy 7: Advent Children, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. I did not create these silver haired men however I wish to thank those who did because they're simply stunning!

Author's Note - I noticed that poor old Loz seems to get forgotten about in this fandom so I have set out to change that. I think he's awesome. :)

***

Chapter one.

They're doing it again.

Always when they think I'm asleep and don't know what they're up to. Yeah, like I wouldn't notice. I may not be the smartest guy on the planet but it's kind of hard to miss what's happening behind me. Well, to tell the truth, I'm not exactly sure what is going on, not in explicit detail, however, I have a fair idea. They're trying not to move too much or be too loud in case they wake me but it's a bit late for that. I've been awake since before they even began.

Back in our lair in the Forgotten City, we all sleep in the same bed. And why shouldn't we? We all share the same blood, the same molecular structure, the same mimetic legacy. We're remnants, replicas, experiments; whatever you want to call us. Our ages vary, with me being the oldest, but I like to think that if we'd been conceived the normal way we would have all been born together, as triplets. This is how we would have slept in the womb, inside of our Mother. Just the three of us, all tangled up contentedly like snakes in a burrow.

A lot of the time I wake before them and just lie there with my eyes shut, enjoying the intimacy of having arms and legs weaved through mine, warm bodies pressed against me and silken hair lying across my skin. That's when I feel really close to them, when I feel like I belong, that I am part of something great and special and unique.

That and when we fight. We all have different weapons and different fighting skills but when we band together to take on the enemy in battle it's like we merge into one being of attack, working together as one perfect machine with one objective. We know what we are each thinking, what we are each about to do, as if we are inside one other's minds. If one of us is in trouble or we need help, we get it, defending each other without needing to ask for it or be asked. I am them, they are me. We are one. That makes me happy too.

But I'm not happy right now. Not when they do this behind my back. Not when they purposefully leave me out. I feel ignored, unwanted and unneeded. I know I could say something; I could turn over, I could easily interrupt them and make them stop but at the same time I don't want to. I'm disgusted with myself but in a perverse way I enjoy knowing that they're touching mere inches from where I am.

It excites me.

Whatever they're doing to each other, it sounds like it feels really good judging by Yazoo's stilted breaths and Kadaj's quiet grunts. There are other noises too, wet slippery noises, and hearing their forbidden pleasure turns me on enormously. My body responds to every whisper of sound that reaches my ears, my flesh tingling as if it is me they are caressing. I am lying on my front, facing towards the stone wall and there is an aching hardness underneath me, crushed beneath my stomach, my undershorts and the king-sized bed with its black satin sheets. Every time the mattress jiggles with their careful movements it sends a white-hot jolt right through my core and I have to bite my lip to keep from groaning. I try to regulate my breathing, keeping it slow and steady the way it would be if I was actually still asleep. I'm desperate for physical relief but I'll have to wait until they are finished and out of bed before I can do anything about it. I'll make a dash for the shower and take care of it there, like I usually do, my tugging fist and sobs of release masked by the hissing spray of water. Until then I will just have to suffer quietly and hope they hurry it up.

Unseen behind me, Kadaj does something to make Yazoo moan, a low velvety sound that slides over me and coils around my swollen masculinity like a hand. I bite my lip harder.

"Shh," Kadaj urges under his breath. "Brother is sleeping."

Yazoo moans again but this time it's muted, like something is over his mouth. Most likely Kadaj's palm, without the black glove that normally covers it. Their full-length leather outfits are hung over the back of a chair and there's nothing between my two siblings but naked skin. So pale. So flawless. I know because I've studied it. Admired it. Without them knowing, of course. I admire a lot of things about them; their slim figures, feathery eyelashes and long hair. They're pretty. Generally, I loathe to use the word and think so-called pretty things such as flowers, perfume or butterflies are gross and revolting but I can't help finding Kadaj and Yazoo both confusingly attractive. They're like girls. Only so not. They are hard and vicious and would bust your skull open if you dared to suggest they are anything other than male.

Is it abnormal to lust after your own brothers? To think of them as hot? Is that wrong? I mean, I know I'm one of the bad guys and spend a lot of my time shooting at people or punching them in the face but even I have some level of morality. Not much, mind you, just enough to know that what's happening here probably shouldn't be.

And yet I'm still lusting. It doesn't help that Yazoo keeps moaning in that muffled way, at the back of his throat, like he's sucking on Kadaj's fingers or perhaps Kadaj is pushing them into his mouth and back out again. The imagined scenes that flicker in front of my closed eyelids are obscenely tantalising and I yearn to turn around and watch for real but I'm afraid. I'm afraid that they'll be mad at me for listening like this, for furtively eavesdropping on their private moment and even more disgracefully, getting off on it.

The wet slippery noises increase.

"Yes," Kadaj whispers coaxingly, my level of anticipation rising even higher.

"Yes...Now."

A stifled gasp is accidentally let go and the bed quakes, as though somebody is shuddering on it, each ripple of motion utter torment against my painfully aroused body, causing me to wince and very nearly whimper. I could grind my hips into the mattress and let myself climax that way in a matter of seconds but I couldn't do it without them noticing and I'm humiliated enough as it is. At least it's finally over. The noises have stopped, except for fast breathing. I just need to wait a little longer and they'll get up and get dressed, leaving me alone with my burning shame.

After a few still minutes someone moves and the sheet pulls tighter across me, the harmless fabric seeming to rasp like sandpaper across the heightened nerve-endings in my skin. There is a contented sigh – I'm not quite sure who from – and then gentle smacking sounds.

Kissing sounds.

Jealousy explodes through me and my pulse thuds furiously in my ears. My eyes fly open and I glower at the smooth rock wall in front of me, feeling my face twist into a mask of rage. I can handle not being part of whatever moist, squishy thing they were doing before but knowing that my brothers are giving each other secret kisses is like a knife to my gut because they've never given them to me. Not once.

"Stop it," I grit out from clenched teeth, incapable of holding it in any longer. "Stop doing that!"

I hurl the bedclothes aside and turn over in anger, finding the two of them broken apart, Kadaj gazing at me in mild astonishment, half his face hidden by the ever-present curtain of his hair. He is propped up on his side behind Yazoo, who is absently licking his lips. Kadaj's hand is on Yazoo's shoulder. The glossy ebony sheet is gathered around their waists, their chests bare and white, reflecting the faint light of dawn making its gradual way into our sleeping chamber.

"Looks like we woke brother after all," Kadaj comments, not appearing sorry in the least. In fact, he appears rather amused by my reaction and this makes me even angrier.

"I hate you," I growl at Kadaj but my words don't have the cutting effect I intended. He simply smiles at me, like I'm some dumb kid.

"No, you don't."

"I do. I hate you both," I say, glaring at Yazoo, trying to take that cool, half-interested look off his far-too-feminine face. It doesn't work, either.

"And why do you hate us, hmm?" Kadaj patiently asks, clearly indulging me which only adds to my frustration.

"Because you never pay any attention to me. It's like I'm not even here sometimes." Unable to contain myself, I blurt out, "I wish I'd never been cloned at all!"

I roll back over, burrowing into the pillow as tears start to escape, spilling angrily down my screwed-up face.

"Oh, Loz," Kadaj scolds exasperatedly. "Are you crying again?"

"No," I sulk, rubbing at my eyes.

"Yes, you are. You're such a baby." His voice is filled with mockery and the fact that Kadaj is making fun of me at a time like this makes me hate him even more. With a roar, I whip around and lunge at him, wanting to choke him until his face turns purple but Yazoo springs to his defence, grabbing my arms and wrestling my outstretched hands away. I struggle against my surprisingly strong middle brother while Kadaj laughs, obviously finding this hugely entertaining. Pissed off with the pair of them, I yank my arm back and lash out, slapping Yazoo across the face and throwing his head to the side, his hair spinning in a platinum arc. Immediately, I regret it and freeze in shocked silence. Kadaj has even stopped laughing. I've never hit either of them before. I didn't mean to but I was annoyed at Yazoo for getting in the way and my bad temper got the better of me. I stare guiltily as he slowly turns back around. He's cradling his cheek, looking wounded. I want to tell him I'm sorry but my tongue is all tied up and besides, I'd probably only say something to make the situation worse. I'm not good with…you know, words.

While I'm sitting there uselessly wishing I could rewind the last thirty seconds, Yazoo's hand shoots out and catches me around the neck, startling me. I'm too frightened to move as he brings his face close to mine, his aqua-green gaze sharp and penetrating like laser beams.

"Now, that was a very silly thing to do," he murmurs in his melodious, almost sing-song voice but the deceptively placid tone hides a venomous warning. "I wouldn't try it again if I were you."

He squeezes his fingers threateningly, starting to restrict my air supply. "Do you understand me?"

I nod jerkily, eyes widening in panic. "I understand," I gasp.

He gives a satisfied, "Humph," and lets me go. I rub my neck and gulp. Yazoo doesn't talk much but when he does, you damn well take notice.

Showing no concern for me, Kadaj moves Yazoo's lengthy hair aside, inspecting his face for any damage. There's a red handprint on his milky skin but I haven't broken anything and there's no blood. Kadaj kisses him comfortingly on the cheekbone and at the protective display of affection I feel my eyes starting to fill with tears again.

"What's wrong with you today?" Kadaj seems genuinely puzzled with my behaviour. "Are you upset because we haven't found Mother yet?"

"Kind of," I admit with a miserable sniff. "But that's not all of it."

"Well, what is it, then? And try to tell us without sobbing this time."

I scowl at him for the unnecessary sarcasm but manage to keep my emotions under check.

"I think you don't care about me the way you care about each other."

"Don't be stupid," Kadaj returns dismissively. "We care about you. Very much." He turns to my other brother. "Don't we, Yazoo?"

"Yes," Yazoo answers, gazing at me with sympathetic softness, my slap seemingly forgotten. "We do."

"It doesn't feel like that," I grumble. "I'm the odd one out. I ain't pretty and smart and elegant like you guys. I'm big and I'm rough and I'm only here to provide muscle. That's all I'm good for. That and obeying orders. You don't really need me."

"You sell yourself far too short, Loz." My younger brother musingly cocks his head at me, his shoulder-length hair swinging heavily as he moves, as if it's wet or made of something other than hair, such as fine strands of metal. "And we do need you."

"Yeah?" I retort. "Then why don't you ever touch me like that?"

I gesture to where his fingers are curled around Yazoo's upper arm, lightly stroking with his thumb. Kadaj glances down at this unconscious caress and then exchanges a meaningful look with Yazoo. A slow smirk settles on Kadaj's softly-curved lips as he regards me speculatively.

"Careful what you wish for, brother."


	2. Chapter 2

"Careful what you wish for, brother."

After Kadaj says that I swallow nervously. There's a dangerous, seductive gleam in his gaze and he only gets that gleam when he's going to hurt someone or screw them. Yazoo is staring at me in precisely the same way and to have two pairs of elongated reptilian pupils focused entirely on me is more than slightly scary. I know I have the same eyes as them; it's just that I only usually get afforded cursory glances every now and again, Kadaj's impatient and Yazoo's impassive. They've never really looked at me, not like this, as if I'm something intriguing they want to toy with and then eventually eat.

Kadaj whispers something to Yazoo and my longer-haired brother begins climbing across me to the other side of the bed, awarding me a sly little smile when his knee brushes over my groin, discovering my still-hardened maleness. It takes all my willpower not to moan at the agony that casual touch causes me. I'm sure he knows it too. As Yazoo is draping himself next to my right, I watch him cautiously, just in case he attempts to strangle me again. Thankfully, he doesn't, just gives that insanely disturbing chuckle, the way he does anytime he's enjoying himself far too much. My edgy watchfulness is diverted when Kadaj shifts closer to me on my left, his thigh pressing against mine under the sheet. He's got a secretive look about him, like he's planning something evil. I don't know who I'm more suspicious of, Yazoo or him. They're both as bad as each other when they want to be.

"Why so wary?" Kadaj enquires, trying to seem all innocent and failing at it. "Don't you trust us?"

"No freaking way," I declare, flinching when he runs his finger down the centre of my chest, as if I expect to get cut by it.

"Well, we're going to have to change that, aren't we?" he says sweetly just before spreading his hand and giving me a rough shove backwards. I slam onto the bed, my eyes widening as Kadaj looms over me like a bird of prey, silver mane dangling down around his face. The point of his tongue emerges, swiping slowly over his full top lip, making it glimmer alluringly. I'm certain he's doing it to make me look at his mouth. And dammit, it's working. Not that it's the first time I've looked but now I can't see anything else. It's small and succulent, appearing faintly blue in the dimness of our underground den.

I need to have it. To taste it. Right now.

As though reading my mind, he leans down but doesn't complete his descent, stopping about half an inch from my lips. His hair tickles me. I can feel the warmth of his breath. I lift my chin, seeking his mouth. He pulls back, just out of reach. He playfully nuzzles the tip of my nose with his and when I try to capture his lips a second time he frustratingly moves away again. This has never happened to me before so it takes me a while to figure out what he's doing. He's teasing me. On purpose!

"Kadaj," I almost whine. "Don't."

He pouts at me. "Aw, aren't you having fun?"

Out of the corner of my eye I see Yazoo smiling, proving that HE definitely is, but I ignore him.

"You're being mean," I state in a sullen tone. I don't care if Kadaj is mean to other people; I just don't like it when he does it to me.

"So, what do you want, huh?" he provokes, feeding off my aggravation as usual. "You want me to kiss you? Is that it?"

Nearly ready to try throttling him again, I spit back, "What do you think?"

"I don't know," he rebounds, glancing at our other brother. "What do you think, Yazoo?"

Yazoo takes the question seriously, a lock of his hair slithering over one bare shoulder as he ponderingly tilts his head. "I think… he wants it very much."

"Then say it, Loz," Kadaj orders silkily, the timbre of his voice promising it'll be worth it. "Say please and I will."

I snarl a bit but do as he commands, like always. "Please! Just kiss me, okay?"

Because I said the words, even in such an irritated way, he grins triumphantly like he's beaten me but holds true to the bargain, lowering his face in my direction once more. The instant he gets close enough I grab him by the hair, holding his head down so he can't pull away again. I must be hurting him but I think he likes that because he gives a purring sound before touching my lips with his. The lightness of the contact is not nearly enough and I yank him towards me, crushing his taunting mouth with mine, hard enough to bruise. I think he likes that too. He's gone strangely submissive and doesn't resist when I force my tongue into him, actually opening up wider for me and accepting my brutality. His mouth tastes sweet, like honey, which is ironic considering the scathing language that comes out of it. I know it's not gonna last but I'm using this opportunity to dominate Kadaj while I can, pulling his hair as I savagely kiss him, punishing the baby-faced bastard for every time he's ridiculed me or made jokes at my expense. He deserves this one hundred percent and so I rape his mouth with mine, owning it, possessing it, taking from him and not giving anything back.

I try to stay mad at him but he starts returning my fierce thrusts with darting ones of his own and this somehow gets to me and lessens my boiling anger. I'm not claiming to be an expert or anything but he's a damn fine kisser, using his quick tongue to tempt and tease, taking my mind off why I got mad in the first place. My temperature reduces even further when his gloveless hands commence gliding up my arms. They're soft, like a child's, the black leather protecting his palm and preventing any calluses from forming against the handle of his twin-bladed sword. He strokes me from elbow to shoulder, fingers rippling over the contours of my biceps which happen to be three times the size of his, as if he's savouring the solidness of them and the texture of my skin. He is astoundingly gentle with me, almost tender, and that's something I don't get shown often. Or to be more accurate, not at all. Normally, the only times he deliberately touches me in bed is to prod me in the ribs or give me a kick when I'm snoring. He's never touched me like this, his hands exploring and caressing, treating me like a lover instead of someone to annoy or boss around, and his uncharacteristic demeanour takes me by sheer surprise.

Him being nice… I'm so not used to that.

I'm still kissing him but the act is not injected with such hateful spite as it was, my motions starting to become slower and less selfish, my tongue sliding into his mouth rather than stabbing at it. He's half lying across me, his chest pressed to mine, and with the unresisting co-operativeness he's displaying I take a chance that it's safe to let go of his hair now.

My instinct is right and he doesn't budge or try to get away; just keeps giving me those hot little kisses, still investigating my muscles. I reach under his arms so I can access his sides, running my palms along them until I arrive at his waist, spanning it with both hands and marvelling at how trim my brother is. He's only nineteen so he might fill out more over the next couple of years but I privately hope he doesn't. I don't want him to end up pumped and brawny like me. I like him being lean. I sweep my hands up again, moving inward, over the warm smoothness of his back. I graze the points of his shoulder blades and then head down once more, following the indented line of his vertebrae beneath the rumpled sheet where it leads straight to his tailbone and the enticing crevasse that begins there. I spread my fingers out and cup his taut rump which always looks so delectable in that leather costume. Riding behind Kadaj as he's leaning forward on his motorcycle is a highly distracting place to be for that very reason. It's amazing that I haven't crashed my bike into a tree for lack of concentrating. I also dig the straps and buckles he has around each of his thighs. Every time I look at those I want to undo them and slide my hands up the knee-high splits in his outfit. Considering how provocative his and Yazoo's tight-fitting suits are, it's no wonder I'm jerking off in the shower over both of them on a regular basis.

Finally able to feel for myself how toned Kadaj's glutes are I squeeze them, digging my fingertips aggressively into the firm flesh, hoping to leave a few nail-marks behind. Even this doesn't make him pull away from me and I decide to test my luck, hesitantly starting to trace the tempting valley of his rear. When no protests are made or punches thrown my way, I grow bolder, reaching further down, towards the back of his thighs. I don't know who ended it first but we've stopped kissing, our mouths just a few millimetres apart and our breaths ghosting across each other's lips. I have my eyes closed in suspense and I'm sure he does too. We're both very still and both very aware of what I'm doing; him probably wondering how far I'm gonna go and me wondering when he's gonna stop me. Not yet, apparently, and so I carry on, brazenly invading that valley, trespassing into its heated depths to discover what secrets lay there. I don't know if it's my imagination or what but it seems like his thighs widen a fraction, making it easier for my questing fingertips to locate what they're looking for. And I find it. The entrance to his body is tiny and irresistibly tight and I can't believe he's letting me touch him there. I suddenly have this overpowering urge to push into it just to see how much I can stretch him open and so I take my fingers away, intending to spit into them and give it a try but Kadaj clasps my wrist, putting a halt to that impulsive idea.

"I think you've gone far enough," he remarks, gazing down at me with a humoured expression. "I didn't know you had such a thing for me, Loz. Or my ass."

"I do NOT have a thing for your ass!" Realising how lame and completely untrue that sounded, I blush and snap, "Shut up!"

He gives a merciless laugh, like the demon I know him to be. "Look at you, all hot and bothered. You know, dear brother of mine, you're really sexy when you're angry."

Generally, such a goading statement like that would result in me becoming even more cross and irritable but he jabs his stiffness into my thigh as proof, a corner of his mouth turning up smugly, and I can only blink at him in astonishment.

I created THAT? Surely not. Nobody ever gets wood over me. He's probably still hard from what he did to Yazoo earlier. Yeah, I decide with a twinge of resigned disappointment. That'd be it.

Reinforcing my belief that Kadaj is much more interested in Yazoo than me, my little brother rolls aside and announces, "He's all yours, Yazoo. You can play with him now."

…………

A/N: thank you so much everyone for reading and commenting! You're the best. *heart*


	3. Chapter 3

My thanks to:

kiki-slasha – I have tried to give the boys their own distinct, unique personalities and I'm glad you can see that. Yeah, Kadaj is a teeny bit masochistic here! But not too much. True, Yazoo is nicer to Loz but he can tease too, when he feels like it! (lol, I'd get wood over Loz too if I had...y'know, a branch. XD)

Boehmei – Thank you so much for reading my work! I appreciate it and hope you find this chapter just as amazing. ^__^

IA1979 – Oh, Loz definitely needs more love in this fandom! I'm so happy you're part of the club. I think the big guy would be pleasantly surprised to learn how many fans he's actually got! (and I hope this update leaves you out of breath again, hehe)

Prisonerksc2-303 – Haha, yeah, teasing Loz is fun! ;) And yes, Yazoo's a very lucky brother to witness all this hotness close up. But now he gets to play too... *smirks and shoves that sexy bitch in Loz's direction*

Warning: Graphic Oral

………………………………

Chapter 3.

"He's all yours, Yazoo. You can play with him now."

At the permission, Yazoo smiles mischievously, his eyes dropping to my topless torso. He visually examines me from my neck down to my navel and back up again, lingering and lustily, almost as though he finds my bulkiness appealing. I don't think he does, not really; he's just a very good actor. He and Kadaj…they're simply fooling around with me, using me for their own twisted amusement. And like some desperately pathetic loser, I'm allowing them to. I know it's fake but I need this; I need to pretend they want me, even if they don't. To his credit, Yazoo is extremely convincing, stroking my pecs repetitively with one hand as if he's captivated by the feel of my skin and the slabs of muscle beneath it. Sensational thrills ripple over my chest and my heart begins to pound under his palm, betraying how keen I am for his touch. I let myself sink into the unlikely fantasy of him actually desiring me and it's not that difficult to do, especially when Yazoo leans down, pressing his soft lips to my flesh, near my collarbone. His hair falls onto me, the long pewter threads as light as spider-silk. I feel my toes curl as he kisses along my upper body, tongue flitting over my nipples and making me jolt, each wet flick electrifying my sensitive tissue.

I may be the size of a bear but at least I'm not furry like one because I'm pretty sure Yazoo wouldn't be putting his mouth on me if I was. All of us are smooth-skinned with only fine slivery hairs on our legs and arms, scarcely noticeable to the eye. Just so you know we're dudes we do have the usual coarse fuzz under our arms and peeking over the elastic band of our underwear but in general we are sleek as seals. I'm so glad I don't have to wax because having blisteringly hot gunk spread on my chest and then forcibly ripped off along with the top layer of my skin would make me bawl like a little girl and yeah, we all know I do that enough already. As he's kissing me on the breastbone I can tell Yazoo appreciates this hereditary hairlessness, his fingers skimming over my ribcage and down my side, giving me tingles right up to my armpit. His hands are soft too, like Kadaj's. I want to touch him as he's touching me, to feel every inch of his svelte, equally-smooth body but I'm not confident he'd let me do that so I clench my fists in the bed sheet instead.

Yazoo continues making his torturous way down my abdomen, mouthing along my stomach and tracing my six-pack abs with the tip of his tongue, leaving behind trails of moisture that glisten on my skin. Arriving at my belly button, he licks it, probes it, delving into the circular dent with repeated motions as if he's giving oral sex to it which of course does nothing to assist my excruciating arousal, only making it far worse and causing me to groan from between my gritted teeth. I know Kadaj is witnessing my discomfort but I don't look at him because he'll only be smirking sadistically like the prick he is. Although, Yazoo is running a close second in the sadistic prick race, sliding the sheet down and suggestively grazing his lips across the vein in my lower stomach, right above the waistband of my black trunks -- something we all have to wear under our leather suits to prevent chafing but which only I currently have on since my two brothers mysteriously lost theirs sometime this morning. The material comes to mid-thigh and is stretchy and clingy, outlining the bulge between my legs, the damning evidence of my eagerness. Yazoo frowns at the bulge, as if he doesn't quite believe what he's seeing, deciding to take a closer look and yanking the front of my underwear down. At my length and thickness, his eyes grow larger while Kadaj raises one slanted brow, like he's impressed or something. The knowledge that they're openly staring at my erect nakedness makes me flush from my neck down to my feet, though I'm not sure if it's with embarrassment or excitement, and I shut my eyes, praying they aren't going to say something cruel about me while I'm all exposed and defenceless like this. If they do I'm gonna kill them; snap both of their skinny necks with my bare hands.

Yet, no taunts are spoken.

Nothing is said at all and I crack an eye open when the unusual silence begins to worry me. They're still staring. I have no idea why as they're both guys with guy parts so it can't be an entirely unfamiliar object to them.

"What?" I demand uncomfortably. "Never saw one before?"

Yazoo slowly shakes his head, murmuring, "Not like this." With both hands he tugs at my shorts, wanting to take them off completely, and I reluctantly lift my hips up off the mattress so he can. He peels them down, over my knees and past my ankles, tossing the elastic black fabric carelessly to the floor. Looking more fascinated and alert than I've ever seen him, he hovers over my groin, his gaze raking me up and down interestedly; his irises blending from turquoise at the edge to jade in the centre, around his now-dilated pupils.

"So big," he utters, sounding mesmerised. "Isn't he big, Kadaj?"

"Why, yes. He certainly is," Kadaj drawls, flicking me a flirtatious glance. "If we'd known you were hiding THIS, older brother, we would have paid a lot more attention to you sooner."

Okay, I know I'm marginally bigger than them, as I am everywhere else over my body, but I don't believe I'm as well-endowed as they're making me out to be. I believe they're exaggerating, just to make me feel better because I'm less attractive than they are. Yazoo in particular is keeping up the awestruck act, focusing solely on the region between my thighs as if he's unearthed some kind of hidden treasure and can't wait to claim it for his own. Like he's setting out to do just that, he reaches forward, slipping his hand around me. I inhale in a quick breath. The coolness of his long fingers is amplified by my own scorching flesh, like ice on fire, and I tense while he gauges my width. He makes a pleased sound at what he discovers, squeezing me as if testing my firmness as well. This time I don't so much inhale as gasp out loud, a massive erotic shock jolting me in the gut and bringing me dangerously close to climax.

Kadaj is leaning nearer to get a better view but his existence barely registers to me. I'm too conscious of Yazoo; what he's doing to me and what he's about to do next. Or what I /hope/ he's about to do next because I want it. Real, real bad. Like all my secretly shameful wishes are coming true, my androgynous brother lifts the thickened organ off my stomach and holds it straight, lowering his chin until his half-parted lips are right above it. He lightly blows air onto my tip, instantly cooling the crystal-clear droplet that has formed upon it, chuckling ruthlessly at all the snarling and swearing this tormenting trick produces from me. I must have thrown some serious begging in amongst all the curse words as he focuses on what he's got in his hand and tosses his hair over one shoulder in readiness. He quickly licks his lips, leaving them dewy, and angles his head purposefully my way, intent on showing me just what he can do with that luscious mouth of his. To begin with, Yazoo places a delicate, feather-soft kiss on the end of me and just like that, my control splinters like a kicked wooden door. I'm torn between the ecstatic feeling of sexual release and the humiliating horror of it happening so soon, before he's even really done anything to me. Cringing while I try to stop the unstoppable, I grab Yazoo's hair and haul him aside but I'm a bit late and a jet of my cream hits him on the chin and neck while the rest of it puddles on my abdomen, a small pool collecting in my belly button. It's white in colour but there is a subtle greenish iridescence present, a reminder of my alien origins. I'm guessing Kadaj's and Yazoo's appears exactly the same as mine but I still wish it was back where it came from and not splattered over myself or drizzling sluggishly towards my pubes like it's doing right now.

"Sorry," I mumble in mortification.

"Don't be," Yazoo tells me huskily, still fixated on my now-messy crotch.

"Yeah," Kadaj echoes in the same turned-on tone. "Watching you lose it like that, Loz…Quite an unexpected treat."

I start to ask in disbelief if they're kidding, but the two of them descend upon me like wolves, coming at me with bared teeth, only instead of tearing my belly open to feast on my entrails, they lick me, successfully shutting me up. A pair of hot tongues lap at my spilled seed, my brothers proceeding to duel for every dab of it; sliding their open mouths over my skin and across my stomach, even along my still-solid staff, making me quiver with the post-climactic sensitivity remaining there. They suck the thick fluid out of my navel and chase the lone stream that made it up as far as my chest. The satiny strands of their hair are brushing over me as they move, adding yet another layer of sensuality to this already highly sensual experience. As if I'm in the middle of a pornographic dream, I gaze down at them lapping up the results of my orgasm, getting a fresh hit of lust each time their pink tongues collide over a particular spot as they vie to reach it first. While they're licking me, they both alternately glance up with sultry feline eyes, rewarding me with devilish half-smiles, as if this is the naughtiest, sexiest encounter of their lives. It sure is as far as I'm concerned yet for them it can't possibly be. I'm just plain old Loz; nobody to get excited over, but with the way they're looking me you'd think I was. I nearly believe it too – that they hunger for my body like I hunger for theirs – which just proves both of them are exceptionally talented actors. So talented, indeed, that my hard-on stays hard even though it usually doesn't after I shoot my load.

Under normal circumstances, like if I'd spent a wad of cash on a hooker and a hotel room, I'd be rolling over to go to sleep at this point in time but sleeping is the furthest thing on my mind. For starters, not with a hooker. Or even a couple of them. I'm with my brothers, the only people who really, truly know and accept me and aren't scared of my menacing presence, like chicks tend to be, whether I pay them or not. I haven't paid Kadaj or Yazoo a cent to be with me but here they are, doing things I never thought they would, touching me in ways I have only dreamt about, feasting on my essence as if it is nectar dripped on my flesh from some ripe, plump fruit I've bitten into. I lie in bed next to these two stunningly attractive young men every night, occasionally eavesdropping on the hushed sounds of their lovemaking and wishing they would turn over and include me, but I never thought it'd actually happen. I never thought I'd get to be this close and personal with them and it's even more incredible than I fantasized.

Working as a team, my nude bed mates catch the last few drops of semen beaded in the greyish curls at the junction of my thighs, finding and devouring all of it. If they wanted to get me clean, they could have just used a corner of the sheet but hell, I ain't complaining. This way is fine too and I'm sincerely sad when it has to finish. With nothing left for them to consume, Yazoo and Kadaj give an appreciative kiss to my now-spotless belly and then sit up on their knees, one to either side of me.

"That was nice," Yazoo says with a sigh, though I don't know if he's talking to me or Kadaj or just himself because he's not actually looking at any of us, abstractedly gazing off into the distance as he has a habit of doing sometimes.

"Yes, but we missed some," Kadaj points out, reaching over to make a fist in Yazoo's plentiful hair, lugging his head back and exposing the paleness of his neck. There's a streak of goo that I got on there earlier which we'd all forgotten about. Leaning across me, Kadaj draws Yazoo forward, licking along the graceful line of our slender sibling's throat, Yazoo closing his eyes and shivering. Kadaj sweeps his tongue over Yazoo's chin, cleaning up the final smear of it, and Yazoo gravitates towards him, lifting his face as though he's powerless to resist Kadaj's mouth and hey, I don't blame him. Kadaj has that kind of effect on a guy, the little minx. However, he doesn't tease Yazoo like he did me, their lips closing upon one another's without any asking or pleading. They exchange slow, sucking kisses that soon grow raunchier and wetter, their jaws opening and tongues snaking together in a primal mating dance. Before, when I heard them do this behind my back, I was so lividly jealous but I'm not now because they're including me, they're letting me see them together and it's the hottest thing I've ever laid eyes on. My two angelic-looking brothers kissing like whores with the taste of my come still in their mouths…

Damn. I could watch that all day long.

..........................................


	4. Chapter 4

A/N - Thanks to these people for their awesome comments:

IA1979 – Gods, please don't die on me! I don't mean to make this story so hot...Okay, yes I do. But I don't mean to give any heart attacks! If I don't hear from you after this chapter, I'll send an ambulance around to your place, okay? (and yes, poor Loz has no idea how hot he really is! Don't worry, Yaz and Daj will soon show him...)

kiki-slasha – lol, I think we ALL want them to rut like rabbits! That's why I wrote this fic. Also, to show the world how big and mighty Loz's dick is. XD Thank you for reading! Enjoy this next update...

…………

Part 4.

Pressing his lips to the corner of Yazoo's moistly-gleaming mouth one final time, Kadaj breaks off the kiss and then pulls back to peer closely at him, admiring all that china-white loveliness, his hand still grasping a bunch of Yaz's hair, but loosely now. Yazoo lifts his lashes and drowsily looks back, his focal point wandering over Kadaj's face, as if doing the very same thing. It's as though they're communicating clairvoyantly, voicelessly saying how prettily perfect they find each other. Not that they need to be told. I'm sure they already know it. As my two brothers gaze adoringly at one other, I gaze at them, struck by the similarity of their appearances; how much they are alike. And also how much they aren't. They both have identical hair and eye colour but their features differ enough to set them apart. Yazoo's facial structure is bony, almost gaunt, with a thin blade of a nose, hollowed cheeks and narrow chin, his striking angularity softened by a lush pair of lips and the serene, nearly sleepy expression in his large, liquid eyes. He constantly looks misty and vague, like he's lost in his own dream world, though he's fully aware of what's going on around him and can react with razor-sharp quickness if necessary. When he's not in quiet, contemplative mode he'll show his wry sense of humour and give that giggle that borders on maniacal. He teases me every now and then but it's good-naturedly and he always seems to see the positive in any situation. Out of all of us he's definitely the calmest and most reasonable. Nothing fazes him. When me and Kadaj are getting irate and irrational, he stays unflustered and unruffled, always coolly in control. I've never heard him raise his voice to anyone.

Being a teenager still, Kadaj is the total opposite and tends to swing from one mood to the other, ranging from insane, giddy happiness to wild, ferocious anger with bipolar swiftness. You don't want him as an enemy because the things he can and will do are chilling and catastrophic. He has an unquenchable desire to possess powers and abilities greater than anyone else on the planet and he's brilliant at devising plans and strategies. Once he sets his sights on an objective, he doesn't stop until he achieves it, no matter how high the body count or who he has to use, betray or torture to get there. He's a gifted speaker and a charismatic, compelling leader which is why Yazoo and I do whatever he says even though we're older than him. He's a bit mental sometimes and like any kid brother, thinks that making me cranky is funny but I'm still absolutely devoted to him anyway. I'd follow him into the fires of hell if he asked me to and he knows that.

As the youngest member of the family Kadaj is kind of cuter in appearance than me or Yazoo with a soft, child-like roundness to his face and a petite mouth and nose. His eyes are more exotically-shaped than ours; more tilted up at the corners, and his brows are fine ashen slants. His complexion resembles pristine parchment and his body is lithe and sinuous, so comfortable in his leather suit it's like a second skin rather than clothing. I know I said he's pretty but he's actually not. I mean, he IS but he's much, much more than that, instinctually aware of his attraction and glamour; every glance, every smile, every move he makes infused with seductiveness, confidence and elegance. When he walks into a room, everybody turns and stares. You can't not notice him. Yazoo and I tend to recede into the background, like silent sentinels, but Kadaj instantly draws people in and holds their attention, as if he's made of magnetic light. The hypnotic aura that surrounds him enhances his allure and makes him more than just pretty. It makes him utterly breathtaking and luminous, like a being not of this world, like a god. Or an archangel. It honestly wouldn't surprise me if one day he grew a six-foot wide set of wings, he's that inhumanly gorgeous and ethereal.

All these things sound like eloquent poetry in my head but you can bet if I tried to describe any of it verbally, it would come out all awkward and stumbling. It's like there's something wrong with the wiring between my brain and mouth. Or maybe just with my brain, period. I wish I could convey how I feel and tell Kadaj that I don't really hate him and never, ever could because he's my little bro and I love him to death but I'd undoubtedly end up tripping over my own sentences and sounding like an idiot so I just keep my trap shut and admire his beauty in quiet reverence.

His face and figure are faultless but his hair, however… Oh, Mother. It's nice hair, I'll admit that, with its metallic shine and enthralling movement; it's just that the way he lets it hang in his eyes all the friggin' time drives me nuts. I don't know how he can stand it, let alone even see through it. That's why I have mine short and swept out of the way. Besides, I'd look stupid with long hair. It wouldn't suit me. My face is all pointy and mean-looking, which serves me well when I want to intimidate somebody but when I'm with my beautiful brothers I feel like the ugliest ogre around. Not to mention clumsy and dumb and a big cry-baby. I was the first embryo to be developed and I can't help feeling like I got screwed up in the lab somehow, that I was the test subject, the botched experiment and Yazoo and Kadaj are the ones that turned out right, the way they were supposed to. They're so perfectly matched in looks, skill and intelligence they ought to have been twins.

Compared to them, I'm useless; just a waste of cells.

As if knowing what I'm thinking, Kadaj turns quizzically to me and says, "Do you believe you're not good enough for us? Not worthy enough?"

"Well, yeah. Look at you guys," I rejoin in a grumpy, envious way. "I can't compete. Next to you two I'm a hideous abortion."

Yazoo tips his head to the side, frowning at me in clear disagreement.

"I will not hear you say that!" Kadaj blazes in fury. "I'm going to make you take it back, brother."

He holds up his hand, as if he's about to smack me across the face for my foolishness. He might be smaller than me but he can hit just as hard when he wants to and I brace myself for the stinging blow.

It never comes.

Instead, Kadaj concentrates, a magical haze billowing up from his forearm to gather around his hand, like a cloud of electrical energy. I stiffen, my brows drawing together warily.

"What are you doing?"

"You'll see," Kadaj replies enigmatically, the cloud gathering and strengthening as he speaks. "Stop worrying. It won't hurt."

Not believing him, I shake my head, wanting him to keep that weird swirly stuff far, far away from me.

"It won't hurt," he repeats, starting to reach out with his shimmering hand.

"No!" I cry out in sudden terror. "Don't touch me!"

I try to jerk back but he strikes out like a cobra, grabbing me around the wrist. I'm expecting to get walloped with agonizing pain but there isn't any, just a peculiar tingling that spreads right up my arm. The last thing I expect is to glimpse myself through Kadaj's eyes but that's exactly what starts to happen. There I am, lying on the bed from his point of view. We own a mirror so I already know what I look like, how I'm just as pale as him and Yazoo with the same silver hair and same blue-green eyes. I also know I have a ton more muscle but it's not like I intentionally beefed myself up to be this hefty; it's just how I was engineered. I mightn't be willowy or move as gracefully and fluidly as them but I am super-strong and super-fit which comes in handy to effectively whip the butts of our enemies and protect my brothers as well as myself in the process. Oh yeah, and I can do that flickering thing, where I flash instantaneously from one place to another with a stripe of blue light. That's cool. Plus, I'm the only one who can do it so that makes me sort of special.

When his fingers tighten on my wrist, I become conscious that Kadaj is putting those thoughts in my mind, showing me that he likes my extraordinary ability. As well as my bulk.

I knew that he could give visions to people with geostigma but I didn't realise he could do this. I didn't know it was even possible. It's odd and eerie, like I'm outside of my body looking down yet at the same time I can unmistakably sense him in my head, directing the images and impressions that he wants me to see.

And one of the first things he wants me to see is what I was hiding under my shorts all these years. From an outsider's perspective it's awfully imposing, lying on my stomach like half an angry albino python. He and Yazoo weren't faking their amazement. It really IS that enormous. I think there is stunned incredulity written all over my face because Kadaj laughs softly at me, enjoying my reaction. Not wanting to miss the fun of enlightening me, Yazoo puts his hand on top of Kadaj's, right in the middle of the materia haze, adding his thoughts and visions to the ones I'm already getting.

Yazoo's inner voice is quieter than Kadaj's but just as straightforward and hard-hitting with the truth. The two voices of my brothers blend into one, speaking to me and telling me things I never knew about myself. Both of them like not only my impressive manhood but my impressive physical strength; how powerful I am, how I can smash down trees and make the earth tremble and quake beneath my fist, knocking people back like bowling pins. They like how effortlessly I can hoist them up and fling them into the sky during a fight, as easily as flipping a coin. Because they are so slimly built, Kadaj and Yazoo find my bigger frame enviable and attractive and have often stared at me the way I stare at them, only I never knew it until right now. Maybe if I stopped sulking or flying into fits of rage every five minutes I might have noticed their less-than-brotherly interest.

Like I said; not the smartest guy on the planet.

However, they don't care that I'm such a lummox or loose cannon. My bone-crunching fighting style and thirst for violence and mayhem more than make up for any weaker attributes I may have. Well, /I/ think they're weak but my two brothers are showing me that they dig the softer centre I have within my outer toughness; my very human vulnerability, the heartfelt and honest way I express my emotions and am not too macho to cry in front of them. Despite their teasing, they actually like that about me and don't want me to ever change.

Another thing they don't want me to change is the way I let my leather costume gape open at the front, revealing a wedge of my chest. They like the way it fits me snugly, showing off my bulging arms and broad back, the pants hugging my muscular thighs and ass; the short jacket occasionally riding up to give them glimpses of my hip or rock-hard belly. In fact, Yazoo designed the suit specifically to emphasize my larger build, just like he designed his own and Kadaj's to highlight their leanness. But it's not just my body they admire. They like what's above my neck as well. My jaw is solid and square; my chin stubborn and strong, giving my face a manly, masculine look, as opposed to Yazoo's femininity or Kadaj's boyishness. My long sideburns -- which I shave in a stylish curved fashion -- accentuate the angles of my face, especially my cheekbones, which are every bit as chiselled as Yazoo's, maybe even more so. I have the same type of nose as his too, straight and sharp, only mine is pointier at the end. My eyes are deep-set but rounded, rather than almond-shaped like Kadaj's are. On the other hand, I definitely have his finely sloped eyebrows. My lips are like a mix of theirs, both wide and sensually-formed, turned down at the corners and giving me that brooding, bad-boy look. It's true that I appear mean and surly most of the time because that's how I am but when I smile -- a real, genuine smile, not a smirk or an evil grin -- my face softens, becoming gentler, prettier, more like theirs. I can recognise my brothers in me, can recognise their features in me, as if I'm a combination of the two of them, yet I still retain my own individuality, my own uniqueness.

By seeing what they see, I realise that I'm a lot better looking than I thought I was. I'm actually a damn handsome dude.

Kadaj smiles at my long-overdue acceptance, removing his grip from my wrist and breaking the telepathic tie connecting the three of us.

"See. You're not ugly."

"No," Yazoo agrees. "You are not." He leans forward to cradle my face, tracing his fingertips along my jaw line and the strips of whiskers I have just above it. The gentleness of his touch makes my heart ache and I realise how much he means to me and how much I'd miss him if he were gone.

"I'm so sorry, Yaz," I choke out emotionally. "I shouldn't have hit you. I'm sorry."

"I know you are," he replies forgivingly, bending down to grant me a chaste kiss, his long locks falling forward and enveloping me in a pearl-grey sheen.

"But if you ever do it again," he murmurs against my lips, "I'll borrow Kadaj's sword and slice your arm off with it."

I can't tell if he's serious or not. I'm hoping not. I like having two arms. Either way, I certainly won't be raising my hand to him in anger a second time.

Proving that he's not holding a grudge against me for my thoughtless mistake, he licks enticingly at my bottom lip and I reply to the invitation with ardent enthusiasm, licking him back. His lower lip is plumper and fuller than mine and I nip at it, catching it and drawing the soft flesh between my teeth. Angling his head, Yazoo covers my open lips with his, evidently still eager to play with me. And I with him. We toy with each other for a bit, the tips of our tongues touching and circling lightly before I make a groaning sound of impatience and enter his mouth, thrusting into it the way I've always yearned to but not ever dared. In my daydreams, when I'm alone and have a spare minute or two to think about kissing him, I always imagine Yazoo being openly receptive to my advances, responding not because he feels forced to or because it's polite but for the simple reason that he wishes to, that he wishes to expand the mental link between us by making it physical and taking our relationship to the next level.

That's precisely how he responds now. He lets me in with a welcoming wholeheartedness, as if this is something he has wanted to share with me for some time. My salty bitterness still lingers on the back of his tongue but stronger than that is his own flavour; a natural sweetness, much like Kadaj's only purer it seems to me, his kisses not tainted by harsh words of the past. I can't recall one single instance where I've been badly stung by anything Yazoo has said. He's always been kinder to me than Kadaj, more understanding and accepting of my rotten temper and violent outbursts. His returning thrusts are not shallow and calculatedly teasing like Kadaj's either; his tonguing slower and more thorough, as if he wants to explore every part of my mouth and taste me like I'm tasting him.

Wanting to see us, Kadaj pushes back the shielding screen of Yazoo's hair. "Yes, my brothers," he encourages persuasively. "Kiss for me."

Knowing that we're being watched makes Yazoo act more provocatively and sexily, deepening his searching plunges, as though he's trying to lick my vocal cords from the inside, and then drawing back, separating our mouths just far enough to let Kadaj see his tongue entwining wetly with mine. I don't even attempt to be sexy because I don't know how; I'm just going along with what Yazoo is doing but it appears that we're putting on enough of a show to satisfy Kadaj's voyeuristic tendencies.

"Good," he rewards us, his voice low and content, like the purr of a big cat. "Very, very good."

After a while I forget about trying to please Kadaj and just enjoy being kissed by my twenty-one year old middle sibling, my face cupped by his soft, ladylike hands and my tongue being deliciously and slowly stroked by his, over and over. His mouth is like warmed honey and the scent of his hair is all around me, filling my head and making me dizzy and euphoric. I don't want to ruin the lovely trance he's lulling me into but I have to pull back to ask him something.

"Yazoo…can I…can I touch you?" My tone is hesitant but even I can hear the need in it. "I really want to. I won't be rough, I swear."

"Of course you can," he kindly answers. "You can touch me anywhere you want."

"Anywhere?"

"Anywhere." He pauses thoughtfully. "Even where Kadaj wouldn't let you."

I stare at him. "You serious?"

Gazing steadily at me, he counters, "Do I ever say anything I don't mean?"

"Guess not," I mutter in acknowledgement.

In case I'm too timid to make the first move, which, incidentally, I am, he takes my hand and places it on his thigh. Lying on his side, he shifts his hips and raises one knee, hooking his leg over my waist so I can reach any part of him I wish unhindered. He lays his head in the crook of my arm, submissively exposing his moonlight-pale throat and the blue veins forking along it.

"I don't care if you're rough, brother," he whispers, closing his eyes. "Just put your hands on me."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Thank you once more for your comments!

Shiva Rajah – I know! Yazoo's adorable. *sigh* Adorably /bad/, that is. Wait til you see what he does here... ;)

kiki-slasha – No, thank YOU for reading! I'm always thrilled to find someone who loves Loz as much as I do. Yay for beefcake! And now he will get even more attention that he so rightfully deserves. =D

IA1979 – Ah, a details person! *is delighted* I love, love, love using details in my fics and though some people must find it annoying that I go on and on about what they look like etc, I find it annoying in other fics how the writers /don't/. They assume because we already know what the characters look like, and act like, that they don't have to explain anything but to me a story without details lacks interest and creativity. Yeah, anyone can write smut, and can go into great detail with that, but surprisingly it seems not many can do it with other aspects of their stories. I think that someone should be able to read an Advent Children fic (or any fanfic, really) and enjoy it, even if they haven't seen the film/anime/tv show that it is based upon. If you describe the characters enough, anyone reading should be able to picture them and see them as real, 3D people. It stuns me when I read a fic and the author doesn't even mention the colour of the guys' hair, or eyes, or even what clothes they are wearing. Stuff like that is what makes a good, entertaining fic. So I am very happy you like that stuff too!

Yeah, I love the boys to death. That obvious, huh? ^__^ Honestly, I find all three of the brothers gorgeous and immensely fascinating and I try to divide my attention between them all equally. Though, I do tend to focus more on Loz simply because he is the most ignored in the fandom and deserves better. I loves my Lozzie. *pets his pixie-hair*

And you know, I think you're the first person to mention the telepathy thing! I thought it was cool too, and something they'd be able to do. You're right, Loz wouldn't have listened if they'd told him in words. Now he knows for sure!

Thank you for your detailed review and yes, Loz's giant dick will soon be the star of the show! Lol

Enjoy!

…………………

Part 5.

"I don't care if you're rough, brother," he whispers, closing his eyes. "Just put your hands on me."

I don't need to be told twice. I also turn on my side, facing Yazoo so I can watch his expressions and see when I'm doing something right since making out with guys is all new to me. I don't really know what I'm supposed to do, or what he expects me to do, but I'm gonna try my best to make him feel good and repay him for the brain-exploding pleasure he gave me with just one touch of his lips earlier. I bend the elbow he's lying on so that my forearm is angled across his upper back over the curtain of his hair, my hand coming to rest on his shoulder. Since he's behaving himself and not trying to choke me, I hug him closer so I can breathe in the scent of his silken mane. It smells so good, like blueberry bubblegum, and under that, the always pervasive hint of leather. Sometimes, I do this when he's asleep, carefully leaning over him and smelling the abundant silver mass that tumbles past his shoulders, nearly getting high off its addictive fragrance. If he ever woke up and sprung me, I'd be so frickin' embarrassed. He'd probably mutter something about me being weird and then roll away so I couldn't do it again. But I can do it now without him objecting so I sniff him once more, savouring that intoxicating perfume, and press my lips into his hair, lovingly kissing the top of his head.

I know I'm built like a tank and can crush people just as emotionlessly but I can be gentle as a lamb when I wanna be, especially towards my prettiest sibling who I've always had a bit of a weak spot for.

Okay, more than a bit.

Okay, so I'm kind of hopelessly in love with him. I realise how not-straight that makes me but if you were a dude and you saw him fresh out of the shower wearing nothin' but a towel slung low around his mouth-wateringly trim hips, you'd be feeling your straightness start to kink too. His body is not only an amazing piece of bio-technology but amazing to look at as well and before this day is over I intend to feel every bit of it. Starting with his leg, I lift it higher up over my waist and then slide my palm from his ankle up along his calf, continuing behind the back of his knee and up his thigh, making sure my big bear-paw skims harmlessly over his porcelain skin. He said I could be rough if I wanted but I can't treat my lovely little Yaz like that. He's too pretty to bruise. And besides, I still feel horrible for hitting him across the face. Smacking each other around is expected when we train together but outside of our gym room it's something we just shouldn't do and I'm truly apologetic for it. The redness of my slap-mark remains visible on his cheek but it's gradually fading and I press a regretful kiss to it, needing to make up for my overreaction.

Reminding me that I'm already forgiven, he spreads his left hand out against my chest, the tips of his fingers tracing tiny circles over my heart, proving that although he's a remorseless killing machine, he too can be gentle when he wants. Him being gentle doesn't shock me like it does when Kadaj acts that way. Whenever I have vivid, terrifying nightmares about being back in the lab it's always Yazoo who holds me and comforts me until I go back to sleep so I'm more or less used to him displaying tenderness and niceness. I still like it, though, and crave more of his rarely-given affection, especially when it has nothing to do with soothing my bad dreams. Knowing that he's here with me because he wants to be is a special thrill for me and while he caresses my chest with his slender fingers I run my hand up the leg that's draped over my midsection. His thigh is muscular but lean; consisting of hard, genetically-enhanced flesh under deceptively soft skin and it is this mixture of hardness and softness that makes Yazoo so enthrallingly bewitching, even to me; his own brother. His blood and my blood are one and the same so I should be immune to his mystical attraction but Mother help me, I'm not. I want to touch him just as much as everyone else does. Only difference between the rest of the world and me is that I'm actually allowed to do it and I consider his recently-granted permission a great honour and privilege.

Sweeping my palm further upward, I arrive at his hip and graze across the prominent bone there before encompassing that whittled waist line of his. I bet if I had two hands around it, I could almost get my fingertips to connect. For all his slimness, he's strongly-shaped, constructed of long, athletic limbs, taut tendons and sinews and honed groups of muscle, all encased in an outer layer of pure whiteness that seems shrink-wrapped to his tall figure, letting you see each and every well-formed bodily contour beneath it. Many times I've looked at those contours and dreamt about following their angles and curves with my fingers but I've never been given the opportunity to do that before. Now that I have I'm relishing the occasion, touching Yazoo in the places I've always wanted to. My fingers ripple over his rib-bones and ruffle through the grey fluff under his arm, my thumb dipping down to brush over his flat male nipple. Noticing the way his whole body tenses when I do that, I rub him there again, delighted when the dusty-pink circle hardens, the fine tissue tightening against my thumb-pad. He breathes in quickly and then releases that breath in a warm sigh against my arm, along with a tremor that seems to run all the way down to his feet.

"He likes it when you do that," Kadaj says in a murmur, nearly startling me because I'd almost forgotten he was there behind me. I don't mind him watching as I get to know Yazoo's body more intimately; I just don't want Kadaj to talk too much because the focus is on my second brother at this point, not him. Besides, he had his chance to get manhandled by me earlier and didn't want it. Yazoo is being much more co-operative and obliging so therefore he gets all my attention at the moment.

When I'm done toying with his now-pebbled nipple, I begin gliding my wandering hand over all the parts of Yazoo I can reach; his shoulder and side, his ribs and waist, his hip, his back and buttock, feeling the difference between soft and firm, bone and muscle, the skin covering all of it like smooth suede beneath my palm. I trail down his thigh and calf again and follow the same path back up, thinking that he's got the longest legs I've ever seen on anyone, girl or guy. If he ever got bored of assaulting and robbing people for cash, he could be a highly-sought after hustler. Men as well as women would pay mega-bucks to see him without a shirt or pants on. I'd even fork over money for that but since he's my brother I get the bonus of seeing it for free. In addition to that, I am allowed certain liberties that the general public aren't and one of them is to be able to touch him without getting my face smashed in by a gun-butt or my arm reefed around my back and busted like a twig, both of which I've seen him do to jerkwads who thought they could get away with groping him and not asking first. Taking advantage of this family-only liberty I roam further with my fingers, easing them into the crease between his raised thigh and groin, seeking out a more personal area.

Kadaj crawls around us on the mattress, settling at the back of Yazoo so he can see the action better. He doesn't touch either of us or interrupt; just reclines sideways and rests his head on his hand, elbow bent, studying us with bright turquoise-green eyes that are glowing preternaturally beneath the razored strands of his hair. I catch his gaze for a moment and pause, wondering if he's really okay with me touching Yazoo like this when it's obvious Yazoo belonged to him first. Trust me; I know about sibling rivalry and how jealous and possessive we can get of our own stuff. I don't want Kadaj to be pissed at me days after I do this if it's not cool with him now. Picking up on my trepidation, Kadaj affords me a permissive smile, letting me know that it's fine and that he's more than willing to share his lover with me. We're brothers, after all, and we already share a bed, so why not share who sleeps in it? Yazoo doesn't seem to mind sharing himself either, turning his face into my arm and nuzzling invitingly against my bunched bicep. He caresses my chest in that same inviting manner, his fingertips lingering in the chisel-like groove dividing my pectorals.

Given the go-ahead by both of them, I carry on, searching southward past the sliver fleece over his pubis until I feel semi-solid flesh. Yazoo moves his leg down a notch, granting me accessibility to his frontal region, and I take him in my hand, stroking him and giving gentle squeezes until the blood surges forth, hardening and lengthening his sex to the maximum extent and filling my hand with heated heaviness. 'Course, it ain't as big as mine but then again, compared to the majority of the male population it appears that I'm a freak of nature. Admittedly, all three of us are freaks of nature -- the scientists made damn sure of that by injecting us with mako and Jenova cells and Gods knows what else – but I guess I'm freakier than most. In an awesome kind of way.

Also very much in my list of awesome is Yazoo, whom I admire for many and varied reasons, and I investigate further underneath him, wanting to learn all there is to know about my beautiful, badass brother. Down here I discover the usual dangly guy-bits but there are definitely no tucked-away girly ones, putting an end to my occasional speculation. With all the experiments done to us I half wondered if some of them involved making Yazoo into a ladyboy because that would be the twisted sort of shit those white-coated bastards would do. Fortunately for Yaz, they didn't manipulate his genes that far. Even if he did have a secret little pussy hiding down there it wouldn't have bothered me. I like pussy and would have done all sorts of naughty things to it: pet it, part it, even lick it and lap up that sweet muskiness. But there isn't one here for me to play with. Between his reproductive organs and rear exit here's nothing but a small, bare patch of skin, same as I got. Yazoo may have a chick face and nicer hair than most of them yet down where it counts he's all man.

That doesn't mean I can't still play with him.

I draw my hand back and slip it over his hip and around the other side of him, reaching underneath my passive partner from behind. I know I just decided there were no female molecules in his genetic makeup but when I start to explore his private entryway I begin to believe I'm mistaken because my fingertips unexpectedly come into contact with moistness and when I press against him, they slip right in. He hisses softly while I withdraw my fingers and rub the pads of them together, testing what I've found, before pushing back in again with the same oiled smoothness.

"You're so slippery," I comment in amazement.

Yazoo shakes his head faintly against my arm. "It's not me."

"What? I don't get…Oh," I remark stupidly, belatedly realising what's going on. Yazoo is not a hermaphrodite and can't produce his own lubrication. This suspicious substance came from my other brother. Before, when I was pretending to be asleep, Kadaj was claiming him from behind, bringing them both to a shuddering climax and filling Yazoo's body with his fluids. That's all those squishy noises I heard. You'd think I'd be turned off knowing that I'm knuckle-deep in Kadaj's still-warm semen but it isn't so. It's perversely arousing, actually, and I push further in, getting hornier by the second, particularly when Yazoo presses his face to my bicep and begins breathing quicker.

"He likes that too," Kadaj confirms. "Make him hot again, Loz."

Already working on that, I use my fingers to kindle Yazoo's slow-burning fire, penetrating him with two of them at once, sliding them in and out of his receptively slick opening. I didn't have to start with one or scissor them to prepare him as he's prepared enough already. In fact, I bet he can take three of them without much trouble so I give it a go, feeling him stretching around my hand as I succeed, a macho kind of triumph welling inside my breast when Yazoo arches closer to me and starts moaning quietly, a note of need darkening the soft sound.

Helping me get him even hotter, Kadaj moves forward and sweeps Yazoo's hair to the side, leaning down to lick him wetly across the cheek, probing into his ear and tongue-titillating him just like Yazoo did to my navel earlier, making the more effeminate one of our trio quiver helplessly against my supporting arm.

"Do you like this, Yazoo?" Kadaj whispers seductively to him. "Do you like being shared by us? By both of your brothers at once?"

In an affirmative response, Yazoo moans again, jolting as Kadaj bites his earlobe with sharp little teeth and then sucks it into his mouth to soothe the sting. As Kadaj and I endeavour to turn on all of Yazoo's switches together, that hand that Yazoo has been caressing my chest with starts to move down between our bodies, past my tensed-up abdominal section, his slim fingers finding and wrapping around my thick length. I only have one switch and it was already flipped to the ON position long ago so I give a deep, rumbling groan, my eyes shutting at the deliciousness of his well-timed tugs. Losing myself in the sensualness of his pleasuring palm, I forget to move and just loll there in a dazed stupor while he expertly jacks me, his thumb slicking around the colourless fluid on the end of my engorgement and making golden sparks appear behind my closed eyelids, like fireworks in my skull. I think I mutter his name a couple of times as I'm reflexively thrusting into his grasp, and I may have muttered Mother's as well, but I'm not really aware of what I might be saying. I'm too busy enjoying myself.

An unknown while later, it vaguely filters into my distracted mind that I'm meant to be touching /him/, not the other way round, and so I hastily open my eyes to ask Yazoo what he wants me to do next but I find him already turned away from me, facing the third party in the bed.

"Hey, Kadaj?" Yazoo begins casually. "Do you think brother would let me ride him?"

"I don't see why not. But you've never ridden anything that big before," Kadaj adds, his tone light and conversational, as if he's talking about Yazoo taking my motorcycle for a spin.

"What, think I can't handle it?" Yazoo returns in his dryly humorous way. "I'm deeply offended that you have such little faith in me."

"My apologies," Kadaj says laughingly. "I should know better."

"Yes, you should. You of all people ought to be quite familiar with what I am or am not capable of handling."

"Hm, I suppose you ARE remarkably flexible."

"Thank you. I didn't think you'd noticed."

"Oh, I've noticed. Believe me."

Neither of them is looking at me as they banter back and forth. This would be one of those times I'd feel invisible except that the subject they are discussing happens to be a very vital part of my anatomy and it, like me, is quite keen to learn the outcome of this debate.

"So, do you think he'll let me?" Yazoo inquires again, surely knowing the answer but dragging it out just to make me crazy.

"I'm positive he won't mind." Here Kadaj slants me a questioning look. "Will you, Loz? You won't mind if Yazoo test-drives that big joystick of yours?"

I shake my head mutely, not game to say a single word in case it's the wrong one.

"Go on then," Kadaj grants Yazoo generously. "Ride him."

Like a kid about to perform a new trick, Yazoo asks him excitedly, "Are you going to watch, Kadaj?"

Not even bothering to hide his smirk, Kadaj replies, "Oh, I wouldn't miss this for all the materia on the planet."

Showing just what strength he has in those gun-slinging arms of his, Yazoo forcefully shoves me over onto my back, bouncing me hard on the mattress, and I stare up at him with shocked eyes as he straddles me, reaching between his thighs to position my readiness right where he wants it. Hair curtaining his face as he looks down, he lets himself sink onto my tip and the heat starting to surround me is unbelievable; the slipperiness and snugness inside his body causing me to gasp and clutch at his hips. Like he's accustomed to this reaction, he smiles at me and sinks down more.

"Yeah. Keep going, Yaz," Kadaj coaches voyeuristically, getting to his knees and watching from behind as my wide shaft steadily disappears. He puts his hand on Yazoo's lower back, supporting and encouraging him.

"Take him all, babe. All the way."

Yazoo exhales evenly as he bends both knees and lets gravity assist him, lowering himself further and further onto my thickness, determined not to stop until he's taken every centimetre into him. In an astonishingly short period of time, he manages to achieve that, his graceful figure relaxing on top of me, a pleased expression suffusing his face; a look he usually only gets when he's having fun tormenting our much-weaker and more easily-angered opponents.

"Mmm, Loz," he murmurs with his eyes closed blissfully. "You're huge."

I can't reply to that. I'm still trying to cope with the fact that my brother is sitting on my dick.


	6. Chapter 6

Many thanks to those who are reading and enjoying this brotherlovin' fic. Especially to:

IA1979 – Yay, you're alive! Again! *hugs you* Still, can't be too careful so it might pay to wear a heart monitor while you read this update. Although, this is nowhere the hottest chapter of the story yet so you should be safe.

Then again, it does have Yazoo-on-top sex, Kadaj touching himself in a perverted manner and then kissing Loz full on the mouth so... Yeah. Read at your own risk! lol

No, seriously, thank you for your wonderful comments! I'd kill to be Yazoo right now too, let me assure you. I've probably made Loz very sweet and gentle here but I think he's kinda like that, or he /would/ be if he was truly in love with someone.

Or they were sitting on his dick. XD

…………………

Chapter 6.

Instead of waiting for me to unscramble my still-stunned brains and move, Yazoo takes the initiative and does it first, starting to lift himself up and down upon me. He starts off shallowly but soon is completely confident in his actions, raising himself higher each time and sinking back again with enthusiasm. Kadaj said he's never ridden a stick-shift as large as mine but looking at Yazoo, there's no way to tell. It's like he's done this a million times before and it staggers me that he's not more cautious or careful.

You see, I've always had dilemmas in regards to doin' it with girls. It's not that I can't get it up; I just can't get it in. Not the whole of it anyway, not without hurting them. Even some professional prostitutes have difficulty taking me in one go when I try to enter them, and thanks to Kadaj's mirror-vision I now realise why, yet Yazoo took my oversized width into him with effortless ease. However, I know it's only because someone was here before me. That someone was Kadaj. Yazoo has already been loosened and made slippery by him and that's how he's able to accept my larger-than-usual girth so readily.

He has already been screwed.

And now it seems Yazoo is going to screw me. Or himself. I'm not sure of the technicalities but don't really care. I'm quite okay with him topping me and using my stiffened instrument for his own gratification because I'm too overwhelmed right now to do anything more useful apart from lay there and maintain it. Keeping my manhood hard is not a problem as him being speared upon it is the most erotically-charged event of my life. Though I was embarrassed about blowing my control earlier I'm glad that happened when it did otherwise I'd be losing it again right now due to the scalding internal grip and maddening wetness within him. He feels friggin' phenomenal and I'm dangerously tempted to ram into that tight, deep heat and keep ramming until I drown Kadaj's come with my own but I ain't keen on messing this up or disappointing Yazoo in any way. I have to stay controlled for him so he can ride me like he wanted because that's what I want too. I want to make my brother happy more than anything.

Seems like I'm winning with that. He leans forward and pushes down on my male root, joyfully letting his hips spiral in small circular motions. Seeing him brimming with contentment makes my heart happy as well. Among other, lower, parts of me. While he pleasures the two of us with his practised pelvic movements, there is a dreamy air of delight about him and his eyes are half-shut and unfocused, almost like he's drugged or very, very drunk. I've never seen him this way but it must be how he looks during sex, when he's immersed in physical ecstasy and nothing else matters except the endorphins flooding through his bloodstream, elevating him to an almost altered state of being. It's as though there's white light emanating from within him. He radiates. He shimmers. He glows, just like the pale angel he is.

Seeing exactly what I'm seeing, Kadaj breathes, "Gods, Yazoo. You are so gorgeous like this." Cupping Yazoo's cheek with one hand, he turns our second sibling towards him. Yazoo lets his eyes drift shut while Kadaj kisses him on the temple, the gently-given gesture filled with worshipful adoration and respect, as though Yazoo is something extremely precious and irreplaceable, and then our teenage brother courteously sits back once more to watch us together. I'm also watching us together…well, more watching Yazoo, anyway; cradling his hips with both my hands and gazing reverentially at this enchanting, elf-like creature swaying above me, flowing platinum tresses surrounding his serene face like a halo.

Though he's resting all the weight of his six-foot tall figure on my body, Yazoo is delicately light on top of me, as if he's no heavier than a leaf, and it is this fine-boned weightlessness which makes it easy for me to lift him with one arm and throw him up high when he's aerially attacking someone. He's magnificent to witness in battle. As he strikes, blocks and ducks he's extraordinarily quick and agile, like a hummingbird, moving that fast you almost can't see him do it. And like Kadaj mentioned, he has ultra-flexibility. When he does a round-house kick he bends at the waist so much that his hair sweeps the ground. He's a fantastic fighter and a formidable opponent but because he's so femininely-featured and girlish-looking, people greatly underestimate him. They're astounded to feel the power of his blows when he's hitting them. Sure, there's a womanly slenderness to his shape but Yazoo is way stronger than he appears. I know that all too well since I've been bruised by some of those blows when we spar with each other in our training room. He's given me a couple of black eyes and bloody noses; even split my lip open once. All those hours of target practice holding a heavy gun steady has had quite an effect on his arms which are much bigger and more muscled than a chick's and probably the manliest thing about him.

But he's not beating me up today. Rather the opposite. He's making slow, drowsy love to me and all my six senses are in heaven. As he's rocking lazily back and forth he's got his hands splayed on my chest, balancing himself, and I slip my fingers around the side of his forearms, sliding them upward over his elbows and exploring the tautness of his triceps. They're impressively hard. He's got visible veins along the inner surfaces of his arms, lying just under the skin, and I track one of them down to where it disappears into the creased line between his wrist and the heel of his palm. I hold my fingers there against that blue branch, just to feel his pulse, thrilled with how swift and irregular it is. Yazoo might look like he's half asleep but his life-force is rushing vigorously through him, confirming that he is as sexually switched-on as me; he just has a different way of showing it.

Recalling what Kadaj said about Yazoo liking his nipples touched, I bring my hands up the side of his ribs, rubbing the tiny pink peaks and lightly cinching them with my nails, just enough to make them contract and him hum responsively in his throat. In my mind, I've often imagined removing his calf-length dress coat, easing it off his shoulders to feast my eyes on the unblemished skin underneath. He's so modestly proper with the way he clothes himself, covering everything except his face, not even showing a hint of neck, and I've often imagined taking hold of the zipper tab under his chin and ripping it down, all the way to his belly button, just to see how he'd react. No doubt if I'd done that it would have resulted in me rolling on the floor holding my injured balls but I don't have to imagine undressing Yazoo anymore, by force or not. He's right here in front of me in all his creamy-skinned naturalness and he doesn't care that I'm staring at him, drinking in every detail of his superbly formed body as if he's a marble sculpture in an art gallery. Not that I've ever gone to an art gallery or even had the inclination to. Why would I when I have all this glorious beauty around me every single day?

Except now I get to touch as well as look.

I slide my left palm down along his flat chest and compactly-muscled stomach, past his navel to the gunmetal-grey fur low on his abdomen. I run my finger-pads along the proud length of his arousal, around the tip and underside and then returning to the tip again, glossing it in his clear secretions. As I'm doing that, his head tips back and then languidly rolls from side to side, the shining sheet of his hair swinging luxuriously, the fine front sections trailing over his collarbones and past his nipples while the mass of it drapes straight down his back, the very ends reaching below his shoulder blades. I raise my right hand to the long pearly threads, combing reverently through them. They're as soft as the satin bedcovers I'm lying on. To state the bleedin' obvious; I like Yazoo's hair. A whole bunch. It's one of my most favourite things about him and if he ever trimmed it short I'd be devastated and burst into tears upon first sight.

"Don't ever cut this off, Yaz," I mutter, stroking the silkiness of it again. "Ever. Or I'll kick your ass. You got that?"

He sighs his agreement and nuzzles his cheek against my hand, responding much like a kitten being petted. I reckon there is some jungle cat DNA in him, I really do. Not just because of the green slit-eyes but how he moves, running and jumping with such a light, sure-footed felineness, as well as the peculiar way he looks at things, his head tilting sideways in curiosity, the long stares and slow blinks. Cats do that. I've seen them. Thinking of my twenty-one year old sibling as part white tiger or snow leopard is strange but oddly fitting somehow and I pat him a bit more, sliding my hand behind the warm weight of his hair and softly massaging the sensitive back of his neck, hoping to make him purr. All I get is another sighing murmur but that's close enough and I smile, loving my sleek silver kitty. My pretty pet. I wonder if he'll wear a collar for me if I give him one. I curve my hand around the front of his throat, imagining it on him – black leather, of course, with metal spikes -- and the thought of him wearing it and nothing else is so damn hot I have to lift off the bed and grind my hips against him, feeling his quiet moan resonating under my palm. This is how he had his fingers on my neck earlier, after I hit him, except I'm not squeezing tight enough to crush his windpipe. I could, though. He might be as dangerous and deadly as a pit full of vipers but guess what?

So am I.

Sometimes he forgets that. Not now though. I tighten my grasp a bit more and feel him swallow, but he doesn't push my arm aside. Holding my second youngest brother in such a vulnerable position and not having him struggle in the slightest turns me on, my dominant side surfacing in the face of his utter submissiveness. I keep my fingers firmly in place, feeling the artery throbbing in his throat. I think he likes it, being reminded of my power, of the dark and dreadful savagery that lies coiled inside me, like an easily-triggered spring. He's witnessed that savagery being unleashed upon the world so he knows how destructive it can be but he sits there so trustingly, letting me seize him around the neck, even though I could kill him just by clenching my fist. He trusts me with his life and that gives me a rush. That does it for me more than the idea of him in an animal collar and I thrust up into him a little harder, his resultant moaning vibrating right down my arm. I shift my other hand from his leaking erectness to his half-open mouth and rub roughly across those lush lips, receiving quick licks and eager nibbles upon my fingertips as he unflinchingly tastes his own slickness. I delve past those lips and into his warmly welcoming mouth, his tongue greeting me with wet, wanton strokes, swirling around my index and middle fingers and probing between them with a blatant suggestiveness that gets my engine revving.

Besides his hair, my next favourite thing about Yazoo is his Godsdamn beautiful mouth. It looks appealingly kissable whether he's smiling or sad, pouting or pissed off, not that the last one occurs very often. With it wrapped around my fingers it looks even more appealing and I'm so gonna make him suck me next time we get naked together. He was willing to earlier this morning but I messed it up by not having more command over myself and my body's responses. Won't happen again. Next time, I'm gonna let him orally please me for as long as he desires and then I'm gonna spill in his mouth when I'm good and ready.

But that's next time. Today, I'm going with the flow and letting my brothers decide what happens. They're more experienced than me anyway. They know what's best so I take my hand out of Yazoo's mouth and away from his neck, lying back on the bed. I'm quite content to gaze at him sitting on top of me, undulating his hips in slow-motion, eyes closed in pleasurable tranquillity while he absent-mindedly chews his moist, slightly-swollen lower lip. I know he's using me for my body like I'm a life-size sex toy, an inflatable man-doll, but I don't feel degraded in the least. Hell, he can use me all day if he likes. I'll just lie here happily and watch him.

Since I've been preoccupied admiring Yazoo's elvish prettiness, it occurs to me that I haven't heard a peep from Kadaj for ages and I feel kinda bad for ignoring him so I glance his way, expecting him to be silently sulking and/or seething at my rude behaviour. To my surprise, he's neither of those things. Instead, I discover my younger sibling kneeling on the bed with his hand between his thighs, evidently finding ways to occupy himself during my period of inattentiveness. He's holding the symbol of his manliness in much the same way as he holds the handle of his katana, his wrist relaxed and grip loose yet just firm enough to keep control. He doesn't stop even though I've caught him in mid-stroke, shamelessly moving his circled fingers along his own shaft and back again, his lips parted in sinful stimulation. The sight of my little brother self-pleasuring is both unexpected and really, really horny. His layered, titanium-hued hair is hanging in front of his face, as always, and from beneath his slanted brows he's boldly staring into my spellbound eyes, as though getting off on being observed participating in such a normally private act. All of a sudden it dawns on me that as Kadaj is touching himself he's not looking at Yazoo. He's looking at me. Has been for a while. My expression must have given away the shock I feel at this because he laughs knowingly.

"Don't look so amazed. You're hot, Loz. I thought we already showed you that."

"Well, yeah, but…" I flounder for words. "I just never expected that you…"

"Could want you too?" he finishes correctly. "Well, I did. We both did, Yazoo and I. If you came to us we would have welcomed you with open arms, brother. But we thought you weren't interested. You never said anything." He has stopped what he was doing and is now looking at me inquisitively.

"Why didn't you ever tell us?"

"I dunno." I shrug awkwardly. "Just didn't."

"Did you think it was wrong?"

"I guess," I reluctantly admit, glancing away from his piercing gaze.

"You shouldn't have. We're not like other people. We're not even human. They could never understand the complex type of relationship we share. Our bond goes way beyond anything they could ever imagine. It is broader and more intricate than this entire universe." He's speaking in a soft, serious tone, sounding far wiser than his nineteen years of age.

"Nothing can separate us. Not even death. We're bound to be together forever, to play together forever, and what we're doing now is part of that." Kadaj reaches out with one hand and turns my bashful face back to him, grazing my cheekbone with his fingertips.

"What you feel, Loz, what we ALL feel…it's normal for us. I don't want you to be ashamed about it again. Okay?"

His eyes are filled with compassion and empathy and I nod clumsily, thrown totally off balance once again by the kindness he's showing me.

"Dude, what I said before… about hating you…" I gulp as my voice starts to crack. "Didn't mean it."

"I got that."

"Sometimes I say stuff that's not true or…the reverse of what I really think," I try to explain, needing to make him understand. "Like, what I should've told you earlier was that I…"

"I said I got it, you big dork. Shut up or you'll wreck the moment."

I do what I'm told and stop talking. Kadaj smiles affectionately at me and grazes his thumb over my bottom lip, which I'm trying very hard not to let tremble.

"You're gonna cry again, aren't you?" he drawls. "I suppose I better do something about that."

And so he does, leaning over to press his lips firmly onto mine, stopping the tears building up behind my eyes before they have a chance to escape. He inclines his head to get a better angle and the tips of his collar-length locks brush against my neck, making me shudder and appreciate just how sensitive my skin is there. That's why I can't stand to have my jacket zip done up all the way like Yazoo's; it feels too constrictive around my throat, as though I can't move or breathe. The lightest touch there seems magnified a hundredfold to me and as if he knows this, Kadaj slides his mouth down past my chin, pressing a chain of tiny kisses along the front of my neck, towards my collarbones. This kind of touch I like and I tilt my head back on the pillow, baring my throat for him so he can nibble at it and trace my pulsing arterial vein with his tongue, eliciting a shaky exhaled breath from me.

"Is that nice?" he stops to murmur inquiringly.

"Oh yeah…" I heave a deep sigh of bliss as he licks me there again, right over the lump of my Adam's apple. "That's super-nice, lil bro."

"I do wish you wouldn't call me that," he comments with a slight frown.

"Why not?" I remark in innocent perplexity. "I'm older than you and way bigger 'n you. Don't that give me the right?"

"Perhaps, but I could still rip you in half where you lie," he reminds me mildly.

I snort. "Sure, but you won't."

An eyebrow lifts up challengingly. "And why won't I?"

"Because your cells would start spazzing out if I weren't here. They'd want to follow me. One goes, we all go. Ain't that the law?"

"Unfortunately, it is," he concedes. "I suppose I /would/ miss you too much if you returned to the Life Stream."

"I'd miss you too, Kadaj," I confide abashedly, dropping my eyes. "Y'know, if something happened to you. Or… you don't come back from the Reunion."

"Don't talk like that," he scolds me angrily. "I'm coming back. I wouldn't leave you, okay? Or Yazoo."

We both glance at our second brother. He's still sitting there on top of me with his eyes closed, looking all zoned-out. I'm still in him but he's not moving much anymore, just toying with one nipple and pressing his hardened length against his stomach with the other hand, rubbing the heel of his palm up and down the underside of it, so engrossed in his own enjoyment it doesn't even seem like he's listening to us, much less concerned about the impending meeting with Sephiroth.

Turning back to me, Kadaj repeats, "I'm not leaving. You need me. Both of you."

He gazes at me for a moment, a strange, undefinable look on his face.

"Tell me that's true, Loz. Tell me you need me."

"Course it's true." I shrug, feeling like I'm saying something very basic and elemental that he ought to already be well aware of, such as that water is wet or fire burns. "Course we need you. Duh."

"How much? Tell me. Please?" he requests in a quiet voice.

I stare at him in surprise. He's got the brashest, boldest ego of anyone I know and demands it to be fed on a constant basis yet at odd times – such as this one -- he seems startlingly vulnerable, almost insecure, like it's all a charade and that deep within he really is an unsure little boy, craving assurance and acceptance from those who matter most in his life. I know he will do battle with big brother Cloud and will kill him if necessary but I also know he wants Cloud to love him and be part of our family. I dunno know if it's gonna actually happen but I know Kadaj yearns for that more than he'll admit. He also suspects that Mother wants Sephiroth more than him and I know this bothers him big time. He's not going to get reassurance from her since Jenova is from another galaxy and doesn't grasp the concept of human feelings in any form but I can give my Remnant brother what he wants.

I can say what he needs to hear.

"You, me and Yaz…we're like three pieces of a gun. You're the trigger, Yazoo is the barrel and I'm the ammo. One piece don't work without the others," I attempt to describe with my limited vocabulary. "You're a part of me, man, like my blood, and I couldn't go on without you. I wouldn't want to. Nothin' would be the same if you were gone."

Shit, now I'm gettin' all upset again, thinking of my little brother dying or being killed. Stinging drops of saltwater well over my lower lashes and spill free but I can't do anything about it.

"If you died, I'd wanna die too, 'Daj. I'd even shoot myself or cut my own wrists just so we could be together," I proclaim brokenly. "Swear to the Gods I would. That's how much I need you, all right?"

Now that I've torn my heart out of my chest and handed it to him bleeding on a plate, Kadaj seems satisfied and happy again, thanking me for my honesty by dipping back down to my mouth, covering it with his own. Holding my face in both of his small hands, he whisks away the twin tear-tracks that have slid down my cheeks with his thumbs and proceeds to make me forget about crying. His kiss is far more sensuous and promising than before; his silky pale-blue lips moving beguilingly against my own as though asking me to act in response, an unvoiced incitement for me to do the same in return. With a gruff groan I accept his request, capturing his babyish little pout and sampling its succulence once again, replacing the strong emotion I'm feeling with another one all together. While we trade gradually deepening kisses, I slide my fingers up into Kadaj's shimmery hair and spread them out, cradling the back of his head with my hand, gently, as though I'm holding a newborn. He may frequently make me madder than a disturbed hornets' nest but I've sworn to protect and defend him to the death and I'll honour that pact until I draw my last breath. He's my kid brother and no matter how many years pass or how powerful he gets that fact will never change.

I was eight when he was brought into the enclosure I harmoniously shared with Yazoo and it was then that my calm, orderly world turned upside down and my roaring rages began. I'm not blaming him entirely for my tempestuous nature but he sure managed to provoke it and bring it out of me in a way Yazoo never had. At four years old Kadaj already decided that he was gonna be in charge and started bossing us around, inventing rules that we had to comply with and carrying on like some foot-stamping child-tyrant if we disobeyed them. Even back then I hated and loved him in equal measures. At this point in time, I'm feeling more of the love and as I touch him, one hand in his hair and the other roaming over his left shoulder and upper back, my fingers are gentle and careful, caressing rather than crushing. Unlike earlier, I don't have to forcibly hold him down here because he's kissing me freely and willingly, giving me his lips instead of teasing and torturing me with them. One thing that is similar to before is when he darts his wickedly nimble tongue into my mouth and convinces mine to fool around with it. Like I require much convincing. I've wanted to do this ever since I could remember, ever since the first time he pouted at me. I can't recall what it was over – I probably stole one of his ninja action figures or something – but he was so frickin' adorable and I just wanted to pick him up right off the ground and smother his cute, chibi face in kisses. I didn't do it, of course. I wouldn't have dared and he probably would have screamed blue murder at me if I tried.

But everything is different now. We ain't kids no more and I don't have to conceal how I feel about him any longer. You know what the best part is? He feels the exact way I do. I can tell that by how enthusiastically he's making out with me, his tongue resembling a live creature in my mouth, diving and coiling around mine like a slippery eel, taunting me to catch it. Which I can't but it's sure fun trying! We stop to breathe and he gives me a mischievous smile, looking just like a silver-haired imp straight out of fairytale land. I smile back and lift up to bite his lower lip, like a puppy nipping at a toy. He gives a naughty little laugh and swoops down to bite me back, not too hard though, and soon our tongues are tangling together again; dancing and duelling, chasing and following, seeking and finding. We're playing, much the same as we did when we were children only now with more grown-up games. Pulling him closer, I moan into his sugary candy-mouth, wanting to do this for hours and hours. I don't think I could ever get tired of being kissed by my younger brother. He's too skilful at it.

Needing oxygen, we break apart at last, both of us panting softly. His lips are glistening and becoming puffy. They're darker now too, a pretty bluish-violet colour.

"You kiss good, Kadaj," I shyly tell him, licking my own lips. "Real good."

Smirking smugly, he boasts, "Of course I do. I've been practising for years on Yazoo. You didn't notice?"

Although he seems not to be paying attention to us, Yazoo apparently is, overhearing this and chuckling quietly.

"It's true, Loz. Most boys get their first kiss from a girl. I got mine from him," Yazoo comments, his long-lashed green eyes sparkling at Kadaj. "Do you know how old he was when he did it?"

I shake my head, having no idea.

"All of eleven. Even back then he was very advanced for his age."

"I still am and you know it, babe," Kadaj brags, leaning in to claim Yazoo's mouth for what is probably the millionth time.

Yazoo would have been thirteen when it originally happened, when they crossed the line from being brothers to lovers. I can't help the pang of envy that I get dwelling on that. I didn't get my first kiss until I was eighteen and even then it was from a whore Kadaj paid to pop my cherry since I was useless with women and couldn't get any to sleep with me on my own. She was nice and so was the kiss she gave me but I still wish it was one of them who did it. Kadaj and Yazoo were so young – barely out of childhood – when they started to deepen their already-close bond and explore their burgeoning sexuality and they've been doing it ever since then. I'm nearly twenty four and it's only now that they're exploring it with me. I kinda feel like I've been left out, like I've missed out on so much over the past decade but I forgive them because they're beginning to make up for it. They've kissed me now, both of them, and I finally know how sweet they taste. Yazoo has placed his exquisite lips on my flesh and caressed me all over with his soft, searching hands. In return, I've caressed him; learnt how smooth his skin is and discovered the inner secrets of his body, how it feels to be inside him.

I can't overlook Kadaj. He has done a lot of things for me, and /to/ me, as well. He was the one who made the initial move. It was his tongue that slid against mine first. Even if he didn't let me go any further, Kadaj allowed me to touch him in a place I didn't think he would and he helped lick up my seed after I came on my belly.

All this in one morning and it still isn't over yet.

When they stop kissing, Yazoo asks, "Hey, Kadaj? Have you finished yet?"

"Finished what?"

"Bonding with Loz," Yazoo replies, glancing between Kadaj and me with a small smile, making me realise that he slowed down his pace purposefully on top of me, allowing Kadaj and I to have some one-on-one time without distracting us.

"Because if you are, I'd really like to be included again. There's only so much fun I can have on my own."

"Sorry, Yaz," I mumble regretfully, squeezing his thigh in apology. "I didn't mean to forget about you."

"It's fine," he sighs dramatically. "I'm used to Kadaj stealing the spotlight all the time. I know you love him more than me."

"I do not!" I interject.

"So, Yazoo's the favourite?" Kadaj jumps in, sounding rejected. "After everything I've done for you? Thanks, Loz. Thanks very much. It's nice to know I'm only second best."

"No! I didn't say that!" I insist anxiously, getting more and more stressed. "I don't have a favourite outta you two. You can't make me choose! That's not fair! I - I can't…"

I screech to a halt.

"Hey. Heeey, waitta minute!" I narrow my eyes at both of them. "You're messin' with me, aren't you?"

They look at each other and burst out laughing.

Clenching my jaw, I mutter, "Hate you guys."

"Aw, Lozzie. We're sorry," Kadaj coos, leaning down to plant a smooch on my forehead, which I've currently got scrinched into an annoyed scowl. "We only do it because your reactions are so hilarious."

"Great. I'm just a gigantic joke to you?"

"No, but you /are/ gigantic. Just ask Yazoo. He's the one sitting on that massive tent pole." Kadaj grins saucily. "How's your butt, Yaz? Sore yet?"

Yazoo snickers and covers his mouth, like he knows he shouldn't laugh but can't help it.

I glower vehemently at him. "You're doing it again."

"Our apologies," Yazoo offers, but he's still smiling. "We'll stop now."

"Like hell you will," I huff.

"We will. Really," Kadaj adds, trying to keep his face straight. He turns to Yazoo, making an encouraging gesture with his head. "Show him how sorry we are, Yazoo. Make it up to him."

"Gladly," Yazoo purrs.

Putting his hands on my shoulders he starts to move again, using his knees to lift up and down on my neglected rod which is still notably stiff despite the prior inattention. His hair swings forward, skimming silkily over my chest and nipples, ticklishly light, like being brushed with feathers. It's lovely and sort of makes me not so irritated with him.

"Forgive us for teasing you, brother," he says softly, displaying seriousness again. "We were only having fun. You're delightfully entertaining to be with and we love that about you. Surely you understand?"

I afford a half-hearted nod at his reasoning, only semi-concentrating on what he's telling me as what's happening below his waist is much more interesting. From this vantage point I can see everything, and I do mean /everything/, and observing a part of my body going into his and coming out all glisteningly wet is like watching a real-live smut flick. Only better 'cause I'm starring in it. Realising that I'm not really listening, Yazoo smirks and introduces a hip-swirl on the downward descent.

"Hey, Loz? Did I mention how enormous you are?"

"A couple of times," I grunt distractedly, still focused on where he's sinking onto me. When he copies that corkscrew motion on the way up, I slide my hands along his flexing thighs, groaning his name out loud, his marvellous movements causing my grouchy mood to dissipate as if it never existed to begin with. When he's doing things like this to me there's no way I can stay mad at him. Or Kadaj, who's watching us in fixation, that night-cat gleam in his eyes.

"Look at you two. You play so well together," he remarks in pride, like he's a proud parent and we're the wilful children who have just learnt how to get along. Ain't far from the truth, really. Yaz and I have never gotten along this co-operatively before and he's never seemed so interested in me. Same goes for Kadaj, who is rubbing his foot on mine while raking idle fingers through my windswept hair, making my scalp tingle agreeably. It's a pleasant change to get this kind of attention from him instead of the other kind, where he's yelling at me and hurling smashable objects. Or calling me nasty names. Him not being an arrogant asshole or Yazoo being distantly detached…it's a pleasant change indeed.

After they decided it was playtime, my brothers may have teased me a little, which is nothing new, but thus far they haven't cruelly or spitefully mocked me nor have they hurtfully pointed out my many failings; only given me tons of positive compliments and flattering praise about my body and my masculineness, showing me respectful admiration and even envy for how muscular and tough I am. They've made me feel worthwhile, desirable and attractive and I haven't felt like that since…well…since I was an artificially-fertilised egg splitting apart in a test tube. In other words, never. With everything they've said this morning, everything they've done and are still doing, Yazoo and Kadaj make me feel good about myself. They make me feel like a mature adult, not an adolescent boy or a messed-up clone with no emotional control.

They make me feel strong. Sexual. Virile.

They make me feel like a man.

Especially Yazoo, since he's the one treating me like his own personal rocking chair, slowly but surely taking me for the ride of my life. He's already brought me to one orgasm today and if my irresistible sibling keeps twirling his hips like this, sooner or later he's going to make that two. I sincerely hope it's later because I want this day to last as long as possible.

Because this is the best friggin' day of my creation.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Yes, here's more SHM-brotherlovin-hawtness! Special thanks to Linzy for all the terrific reviews and also to IA1979 who comments on all my stories. Thank you, guys! *hugs*

Part 6.

"Get on your back, Yazoo," Kadaj directs. "Let him take you from above."

Yazoo obeys, lifting off me and taking all that delicious hotness with him. I'm sorely disappointed for a few moments until I remember what Kadaj just said I could do, eagerly pushing myself up and turning over to find Yazoo laying on the mattress, waiting for me, a vision of nude white splendour on our black sheets. His hair flows underneath him like molten steel, his wispy fringe falling over his forehead and partially covering his left eye. He opens his thighs and raises his knees, elegantly beckoning to me with one hand, inviting me back down with him. I readily accept his offer and climb between those long legs, bracing myself over him with both arms so I don't crush his fragile build with my heavier weight. His lean thighs enclose me as I guide myself to the right place and re-enter him, the new position allowing me to slide even further in my brother's body than before, the walls of his inner flesh well-lubricated with Kadaj's essence.

"Holy Mother," I swear thickly at the moist searing tightness all around me. "You feel so nice, Yazoo. So damned nice."

He looks up at me, his eyes murky with arousal, like the deepest, greenest part of a lake. "The same could be said about you, brother."

"But you feel nicerer," I steadfastly maintain, withdrawing to my tip and gliding back into him.

"If you say so," Yazoo replies, sighing in rapture at my sheer size. "Just give me more of that, Loz. Give me your love."

"I will, baby. I'll give you all I got," I pledge fervently, kissing his exposed snow-white throat. I wish he wouldn't cover up his neck all the time because it's slim, graceful and elegant like the rest of him and one that any vampire would find hard to resist. Luckily, I'm not one and I don't want his blood because I already have it, running through my veins, bonding us in ways mere mortals could never fathom. With tender fingers I stroke Yazoo's hair and face, revelling in his delicate softness and beauty, worshipping him the way he deserves to be. As I'm loving him with my mouth and my hands and every bit of my heart, I pour the endless emotion I have for him into my kiss and my touch, knowing he can feel it. It's not necessary but I even say it, bringing my lips to his ear and murmuring how much I care for him – have always cared for him -- and telling him how captivatingly stunning he is to me, like a silvery seraph fallen from the stars, divine and celestial, just like our sacred Goddess Jenova. All right, I don't say it so poetically and descriptively but he gets the picture. More than all of us, he takes after our mom. I've never met her in person but I see Mother in my dreams when she visits me at night and Yazoo is just as breathtakingly beautiful as she is. I'm not sure if I've said something wrong or something I shouldn't have because after I tell him that Yazoo lets out a muffled sob, a lone tear trickling down his face, swiftly followed by another one.

"Please don't, Yazzie," I whisper in sudden distress, interrupting the droplets on his cheeks with soothing kisses, tasting wet saltiness upon my lips. "Never wanna see you cry. Never want you to be sad."

He shakes his head, whispering back hoarsely, "Not sad. Not at all."

"Oh. Those are happy tears?"

He lifts his dark lashes, beads of moisture caught in them like diamonds, and awards me the sweetest smile. "Very, very happy. And I never said you could stop."

Happy that he's happy, I grin back and resume keeping my promise to him, giving him not only my love but my body, sliding into him with delectably smooth slowness, our flesh joining and separating, joining and separating, my belly pressed to his, mine firmer and his slightly softer. He's getting that high-on-drugs appearance again, his head drooping back on the pillow and his eyes beginning to flutter shut in enthralled euphoria.

"Let him know how he feels, Yaz," Kadaj persuades, before Yazoo gets too caught up his own pleasure to speak. "Tell brother what it's like to have him inside you."

He pushes back Yazoo's straight, alloy-coloured tresses to murmur in his ear. "Tell brother what it's like to have his huge, hard cock in your pretty little ass."

Trust Kadaj to take a precious, special moment between Yazoo and I and turn it dirty. I don't think Yazoo minds, though. I can feel the frisson of excitement that runs through him at hearing Kadaj talking filthy like that. Sorta gives me a frisson too; a quivery thrill that originates in my solar plexus and unfurls down into my gut and groin, tightening them both.

Doing what Kadaj told him to, Yazoo says to me, "You feel incredible, Loz. Simply, amazingly incredible."

"Yeah?" I ask keenly, wanting to hear more.

"Mmm. You're so big. So thick. I've never been this filled before." He rocks his hips up into mine and sighs. "It's quite wonderful."

Aiming to fill him even further, I slip one hand under the side of his hip, wedging it between the bed and his bottom, lifting him up while simultaneously pressing downwards with my pelvis, pushing into that snug central slickness.

"Oh. Oh Gods, yes. Like that," he urges, digging his heels into the mattress and bearing against my intruding wideness. "Want all of you in me. Want you deep…"

The breathy sexiness of his voice and what he's saying nearly makes me lose my mind. I'm itching to bang him right into the bed, fast and rough, until neither of us can remember what day of the week it is but now that I know how large I am, I have to be extra aware of my actions. The last thing I want is to injure my slenderer sibling with coarse carelessness so as I begin thrusting into him I do it mindfully and cautiously, holding back and keeping myself and my supernatural strength restrained for his sake.

"There's no need to be gentle. Our brother can handle whatever you give him. Trust me, I know," Kadaj advises. "Do him as hard as you want. Work that beautiful body. He can take it."

If Kadaj says that, it must be accurate since he's been doing this a lot longer than I have and so I drive piercingly into Yazoo's thin figure, all the way up to the thickest part of my base, gaining great satisfaction when he twists underneath me on the bed, gasping at the total impalement. I draw back and shove into him again, making him accept me as deeply as he possibly can; my motions masterful, almost brutal, letting him feel what pure possession and domination is. If I were hurting him, he'd be able to throw me off and halfway across the room like he does during training exercises but he gives no resistance. Plus those don't sound like gasps of discomfort. I should know; I've hurt enough people to tell the difference.

As I pound into him the way I've always wanted to do, the mattress bounces beneath us, and Kadaj along with it, his hair swinging into his face. He absently tucks it back behind an ear so he can see unobstructed, probably for the first time in his life. On the receiving end of the poundage, Yazoo starts to clutch hungrily at me, acting in a manner I've never seen him, my normally restrained brother morphing into an insatiable wild thing, wanting more and wanting it now. He never actually says anything to urge me on, not a single word, but he doesn't have to. Hearing him let out short, high, "Uh, uh, uh's," with each thrust says everything I need to know. Listening to Yazoo moan like a female porn star is a novel source of entertainment as I didn't know he could make these kinds of sounds. In all the nights I've heard them two getting down with it, I ain't never heard Kadaj make him cry out like this and I hope my younger brother is just a tiny bit jealous that I'm the one Yaz is yelping for now. Serves him right for selfishly hogging Yazoo all these years and not sharing him with me.

When my longer-haired sibling scratches his manicured fingernails demandingly and viciously across my back I snarl bestially and do him rougher, his feral appetite a massively big turn-on to me. Inside his refined, sophisticated exterior, I never knew Yazoo was such a greedy little slut but I love it, gazing victoriously down at the expression of eroticism on his face, eyes closed and mouth open and panting, his cheeks flushing hotly as his core temperature rises. Like I was instructed to, I work him hard, spreading his thighs wide apart and forcing him to accept every inch of my seam-splitting largeness, jabbing into his slick heat again and again, bruising and battering him with my hips, wanting to make it difficult for my brother to even stand up tomorrow, let alone walk. And just like Kadaj said, he takes it all.

"Stop," I'm abruptly told, Kadaj laying a cautioning hand on my arm. "Don't move."

Even though I'd dearly love to keep going until I make Yazoo spurt all over himself, I do what I'm ordered to and halt, the only movement I make being the rise and fall of my chest as I breathe fast with the previous exertion. At my stillness, Yazoo gives a needy whimper, lifting up and trying to pull me closer but with me not helping it's much like trying to shift a boulder.

Turning to him Kadaj warns, "Not yet."

"Kadaj, please," Yazoo implores in desperation, sounding like he's right on the brink of orgasming. "Let me."

"No," Kadaj answers coldly. "I said not yet. Don't ask me again."

Proving he can also follow orders, Yazoo slumps dutifully back against the bed, quitting his pleading. Before he looks away from Kadaj I could swear there's a shard of anger in his normally peaceful gaze. If Kadaj saw it, he doesn't chastise Yazoo, just reaches between our bellies to grasp my middle brother's unsatisfied maleness in his hand, holding his thumb firmly against a particular pressure point in Yazoo's shaft. Yazoo squeezes his eyes shut, biting back another whimper at the cruel touch on his sensitively inflamed flesh. I feel bad for him being deprived of the release he visibly needs but Kadaj would reprimand me or worse if I defy his precise instructions. He might be my baby brother but he's a harsh, uncompromising boss and we've learnt the hard way to just do what he says and not argue.

"Relax, Yaz. Slow it down," Kadaj soothes, softening his voice. "When you let go I want to be right there with you so I need you to hold on a bit longer. Will you do that? Will you wait for me?"

Nodding his head, Yazoo inhales a few unsteady lungfuls of air, the press of Kadaj's thumb dulling his critical urgency down to an acceptable stage. When Yazoo finally opens his eyes again, there is calmness and dignity in the aqua-green orbs, having regained rule over himself.

"I'm sorry," he quietly apologises to Kadaj. "That won't happen again."

"Good boy," Kadaj replies, releasing him and bending down to briefly kiss Yazoo's brow. "Not that I don't like it when you go crazy, babe; it's just that this is our first time with brother and I want it to last. For all of us. Understood?"

Something passes between them, some unspoken comprehension, and Yazoo nods compliantly.

"Understood. I live to serve you, Kadaj," he says. "You and Mother through you."

Anyone who didn't know us might think Yazoo is simply saying what Kadaj wants to hear, uttering these words like a brainwashed cult member, but the thing is; Yazoo really means it. With his personality type he needs to be led, to be given purpose and direction by someone stronger and more decisive than him. If Kadaj wasn't here Yazoo would wander around aimlessly with nothing to do until he fell down a mine shaft or something. Either that or he'd mope around the lair and not eat until his already-skinny self wasted away into a pile of withered bones and dry, cracked leather. I know as well as he does that carrying out Kadaj's every wish is why he gets up in the morning.

Serving Kadaj and making him happy is Yazoo's sole reason for existing on this planet.

"And what about you, Loz?" Kadaj focuses his power-hungry gaze my way. "Do you live to serve me too?"

"Of course. I always do what you tell me to and I always will," I impassionedly avow. "I would do anything for you, no matter what it is. You know that."

Clearly pleased with the conviction of my answer, he returns, "Yes. I do know that."

"Then why'd you make me say it?"

"Because I like hearing you say it." He grins and pretends to shiver. "Makes me all tingly inside."

I make a vexed sound of exasperation, somewhere between a groan and growl. This is why, despite my unending devotion to him, I find my shorter sibling so wearisomely testing at times. He has us wrapped around his little finger, utterly at his beck and call like willing slaves, and he fully realises it.

Still grinning like an evilly possessed boy-doll, Kadaj continues naughtily, "You know what else I'd like?"

"What?" I reply jadedly, preparing myself for more of his self-amusing games.

"I'd like us to be closer. Much, much closer." His voice has that alluring, purring quality again. "Would you like that as well, my big, handsome brother?"

"Yeah. Hell yeah, I would," I reinforce, admitting the true level of my feelings towards him because I don't see the point in hiding it any longer. "Shit, Kadaj. You should know /that/ too."

Proving that he does, he gives a smirk. "So, let's get close, shall we?"


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: More smexxxxxx! XD Thank you everyone, for your fantabulous comments. They make me happy! Let's hope this chapter makes YOU very happy too…

………………

"So, let's get close, shall we?"

Even though I'm not entirely sure what Kadaj means by that or why Yazoo has begun smiling mysteriously underneath me, I don't have time to ponder it as Kadaj shifts nearer on the mattress, sweeping his palms over my back and tracing my muscles with his fingertips, sending tremors down my spinal cord. I let out a rough moan, closing my eyes. Having him touch me like this, bare hands on bare skin, is wonderfully new to me and I didn't realise how much I missed it and ached for it until now. Maybe that's why I've been so moody and teary lately; not because we haven't located Mother's remains but because I was constantly mourning for something else I couldn't have, constantly tormented and frustrated by something that was right in front of me every day yet so far out of my reach.

Him.

My leader. My commander. My aloof, domineering brother; always issuing orders and quick to punish by scolding glare or sharp, cutting tongue. I've tried hard to satisfy him and prove my worth, doing whatever he's required of me without question, but it's never seemed to be enough. All I've ever wanted is to feel real affection from Kadaj, to feel warmth and closeness and caring, to feel like he values me and accepts me despite all my faults and imperfections, to feel like he cherishes and treasures me the same way I cherish and treasure him. When he caresses me like this, his hands gorgeously gentle against my skin, I do feel it. And I yearn for more.

Sensing my need for greater and deeper contact, he dips his head to kiss me on the side of the neck, the ends of his ash-grey hair tickling my shoulder.

"I wish to join with you now," he informs me. "Are you agreeable to that?"

"Huh?" I crane my head around to stare at him. "You mean…?"

"Oh, yes. That's exactly what I mean."

Understanding what he's planning I stall dubiously, "I dunno, dude. Don't it like, hurt?"

"Only if you have a careless partner. Don't worry. I'll make it good for you," he promises, slinging his arms around my neck. "Yazoo knows how good I can make it. Isn't that right, Yaz?"

"Mm hm," Yazoo murmurs with a knowledgeable smile. "He's very talented, Loz. You should let him."

"If you say no, I won't go any further, I assure you. If you say yes, however…that would please me very much." Mouth brushing against my ear, Kadaj enquires with enticing softness, "Wouldn't you like to please me, brother?"

From somewhere in the pit of my belly I feel a very strong pull towards him and start to think that what he's suggesting is a fantastically brilliant idea and that I ought to agree with everything he says. His voice is sexy and smooth, like aged black bourbon, settling into my stomach and arrowing liquidly into my veins, exciting me to the point I was before, when I was lying on my front secretly listening to him and Yazoo together. What they were doing sounded so hot, so wicked and…/wrong/… with the heavy breathing, the stifled moans and the obscene, incestuous noises and I suddenly want some of that wrongness. Badly. I'm just about to tell Kadaj to go right ahead and do it, to take me and make me moan like he did Yazoo, when I realise he's using his powers of seduction on me, trying to charm and hypnotise me into getting what he wants. And like every other sucker that's fallen for his tempting tricks in the past, it seems I have too.

"I know what you're up to, Kadaj," I mutter darkly. "You're evil. You know that?"

"What do you expect?" I can hear the smirk in his words. "I'm a replica of our great Father, after all."

"Yeah, well, stop it. It ain't fair, bending my will like that."

"Who said I'm bending your will? I'm just helping you to admit what you really want anyway."

"Oho, you think you know what I want?" I retort. "So, you can read minds now?"

"I can read yours. I'm your brother, aren't I? I can see what's behind that thick skull of yours and I know you better than anyone else ever will." His tone turns serious again and his arms hug tighter around my neck. "Loz, I told you there was no shame in how you feel about us. About me. It's okay because I have the very same desire too. Can you not feel it?"

"Aw, I guess so," I have to confess. Kinda difficult not to feel it since the physical evidence of his statement is poking into my hip.

"Then, without any…excessive persuading… may I ask once more what your answer is?" He grazes his lips along one of my sideburns, pressing small kisses against my jaw in amongst each softly spoken sentence. "Do you want this? Hm? Do you want to please me as I want to please you? Tell me the truth, now. I will know if you're lying."

Even if he is a demon-spawn moulded in the smoking craters of hell, I can't lie to him or refuse his provocative proposal so after a short deliberation I give him a nod, granting my consent.

"Out loud, Loz. Say it for me."

Though that seems like an order, his voice is still gossamer-soft and appealingly requesting and when he speaks to me like this I can't deny my baby brother anything.

"I want it," I nearly groan, turning towards his violet-velvet mouth, nudging against him, seeking it out with my own. "Want you, 'Daj. Want to please you. Always have."

"I know. You're been dependably loyal, reliable and obedient and I really should appreciate you more often," he murmurs before awarding me with a lingeringly tender and thankful kiss. "Starting from today, I will."

I don't doubt that at all. I'm sure by the end of this morning I'll be full of his…appreciation. I'll be all appreciated out and need to take a very long nap.

The thought of what's shortly going to happen to me is a bit daunting, I'll admit. Allowing him to take my virginity is a major, major deal. I've never tried such a thing in the past or even wanted to but I do now because I want to extend my blood-bond with Kadaj, just like I've extended it with Yazoo, who I'm still braced above and sheathed within, unable and unwilling to be separated from his intimate bodily heat. I'm a part of him now and I need to feel that with my other brother. I want each of us to be as bonded and close as possible, like the triplets I believe we should have been, and there's only one way to accomplish that.

"Just go easy on me, 'kay?" I hint worriedly. "I'm not used to it like you two."

"My dearest, sweet, sensitive Loz. I'd never hurt you like that. Never," Kadaj pledges, nipping lightly at my earlobe and then pausing for a few moments. "Well…not unless you begged me to."

At his persistent cheekiness, I give a snort of reluctant laughter but for the first time in my twenty-three years I am not afraid of Kadaj or what he can do. I know he has frightening abilities and a mean streak you don't wanna mess with but he also has a gentler, protective side -- like me -- and it is this side that I'm seeing right now. It's this side that makes me have faith in him, that makes me trust him, and when he moves behind me, kneeling between my legs, I don't cringe. My heart thumps loudly in my chest but I don't stop him. I want this to happen. I want it even more than I want to find Mother and you know how much I want to find Mother. I don't know if she'd approve of what we're about to do but truthfully, right now I'm not too concerned with what she'd think. She's not here. She's never been here. Kadaj is and always has been. He's the one who takes care of me. And of Yazoo. He's the one who keeps us safe from all the mean people who want to capture us and tear our family of three apart. I love him for that. So much. I'm sure a large, pointy stalactite is going come crashing down on me from the ceiling just for thinking this, but Godsdammit, I love Kadaj even more than I love my own mom.

Yeah. I'm a terrible, awful son and ought to be flayed alive. I know.

Pushing all thoughts of Jenova's potential displeasure out of my mind, I look over my shoulder to witness my bad little brother licking his fingers and the sight is more thrilling and arousing than I thought imaginable. He offers them to me and I accept the first two into my mouth, running my tongue around them, making sure they're well-coated with moisture because I know where they're going. Enjoying this a tad too much, he smiles and spends some unnecessary time sliding his slim pale digits in past my lips up to the second knuckle and then sliding them out again, probably imagining I'm sucking on something else. Which I would, by the way, if he told me to. I said I'd do anything for him and I meant it. I'd even fall to my knees and do it without him telling me to; I want to please him that much. Not today, though. Today Kadaj has other ideas for us. When he takes his hand away from my mouth and moves it down out of my vision, I shut my eyes, trying not to resist or fight it when he presses into me, his fingers slick with our saliva.

Realising my tenseness, Yazoo diverts my concentration by rolling his hips underneath me, giving me a teasing tug from the inside. I exclaim at the delightful distraction and gaze down at him in wonder, marvelling at how this lusciously seductive creature ended up as my cloned companion and not someone else's. Our conception was no accident or act of nature but I feel darn lucky to have him as my brother. In fact, my luck extended so far as to be blessed with two lusciously seductive creatures as my lifelong soul mates and I hold my breath as the one behind me replaces his fingers with another part of him, beginning to penetrate me, very carefully and considerately, not wishing for my first time to be a less-than-pleasant one. Neither of us needs to worry. As he promised there is no pain, only pressure and an odd stretching feeling as his tip breaches my previously unbreached entrance. Never having experienced anything like this before, I remain motionless, barely even breathing, a slight frown rumpling between my brows as I try to get used to having something hard and foreign invading my body.

"You all right?" Kadaj inquires concernedly, halting with his hand on my hipbone. "Do you want me to stop?"

"Nuh uh," I courageously answer. "I'm good."

"Yes, you are," he praises me, starting to push again. "You're doing very well, Loz. I'm so proud of you."

His encouraging words are just what I need to hear to make me relax more and I groan as he sinks further in, until his pelvic bone is right against me and he's up to his hilt. As Yazoo mentioned, he is tremendously skilled at this because it's not painful in the least to have him fully embedded in me, just makes me feel completely connected to him in a way I've never felt before. We are so different in many ways yet we complement each other so very well; the bigness of my frame balancing his petite smallness, my volatile nature tempered by his cool control, my eagerness to obey appeased by his commanding character, my need to be wanted and included fulfilled by his body finally merging with mine. It's like we were designed for this, to make each other whole, to restore something that we've both been missing and have very much needed. For this moment we are not two siblings who continually bicker and fight, or a superior and a soldier; we are kindred – brethren - sharing one form, one heart, one mind.

Feeling it too, Kadaj kisses my shoulder and whispers, "Brother…my brave, beloved brother. Without your strength I would crumble into dust and fade away."

To hear him say that is the most wonderful thing in the world and I reach back to clutch his hand, too emotionally touched to talk. It's not just Kadaj I am connecting with; Yazoo is under me and I'm still in him, still very aware of his patient, supportive presence. He's been silently and attentively watching us, watching my face and the changing expressions there as I let myself be taken, just as involved in this as we are. It's like he felt it as well, when Kadaj entered me, felt us becoming united. It's as though we are all fusing on a cellular level; our bodies, our bones, our very blood and tissues combining and mixing the way they used to be before we were split into three separate beings. I feel Kadaj's chi – his vitality, his energy - flowing into me and mine into my second brother; Yazoo's aura washing back through both of us like warm, loving light, heating me from the inside out, energising me, making all the materia I've absorbed start glittering again. Normal people wouldn't be able to sense this profoundly deep bonding but we're special and I've never believed that as much as I do right now, with Kadaj inside me and me inside Yazoo; all of us inside each other. We are utterly and wholly joined, linked in flesh and in spirit, just like I had always craved and longed for.

It's so beautiful I could die.

"Kadaj," I whimper, attempting to express what I'm experiencing. "You and Yaz… Us…I…"

"We know," Kadaj assures me, squeezing my hip. "We sense it too."

I look to Yazoo beneath me and he nods at my wordless question, tenderly touching my face with the pads of his fingers, wiping away tears that I didn't even realise were there. I turn and press my lips to his palm before he curls his hand around my nape, drawing me down to him.

"We fight as one. Now we join as one," he breathes, lifting up and kissing me, his mouth passionate and urgent on my own. I savour his honeyed taste as his tongue melds with mine, and then I move downward with a single sure stroke of my hips, feeling Kadaj slipping partially out of me while I plunge into Yazoo. My slimmer sibling responds immediately, throwing his head back and giving one of those low throaty moans, the husky sound causing chills to race along my spine. I shudder as the chills multiply all over my skin, every bit of it rising in goose-bumps, helped greatly by Kadaj gliding gently into me again while licking sensuously between my shoulder blades, his tongue scalding upon my super-sensitized flesh.

I utter some blasphemy about Jenova's severed head, unable to describe how incredibly intense this is, all three of us having sex at once, but then again, I don't have to. I know Kadaj and Yazoo are thinking the very same thing. I can feel their pleasure throbbing through me just like I can feel my own. I feel them breathing as though they were my breaths; I feel their pulses thrumming in my veins, their thoughts in my head, their desires; their needs, their emotions. And they feel mine.

I know I don't have to say it but I do anyway.

"I love you guys," I gush with a flood of sentimentality, my voice breaking with emotion. "You're the awesomest brothers ever. You're the best."

"As are you, big brother," Kadaj returns in that panther-purr. "We've wanted you to play with us for a long time. Thank you for finally doing so."

"You're welcome," I mumble, nearly sobbing again.

"Hey. Enough crying, Loz." Kadaj's gentle joking is accompanied by another sizzling lick of his tongue, this one along the back of my neck. "We'd rather hear you groan."

I do exactly that when he propels his pelvis forward and pushes himself slickly back into me, a baritone rumble echoing in my chest as he takes charge of my flesh with his. I guess if you were an outsider it would seem unusual that Kadaj is the one doing me since I'm bigger and older than him but honestly, to us it doesn't matter who's on top, who's in the middle or who's on the bottom. It's not about dominance or anyone owning anyone because we all belong to each other and we all want the same thing. To unite. To connect. To become complete. Kadaj may be the sword to my scabbard but only because there's nowhere else for him to put it. It's not like he's got a lot of choices. We gotta work with what we have and I'm more than okay with that. Maybe when we do this in the future our roles will interchange and I'll get a turn with my smaller, younger sibling but for now I'm the one accepting Kadaj into my body, damn grateful for the opportunity too.

As he pulls back and then spears slowly but insistently in, I feel myself opening for him once again, his firm length passing along nerves that were formerly dormant but are now awakened and acutely responsive, sensory sparkles flaring outward from where we are joined, up over my buttocks and lower lumbar, extending all the way down my thighs like electric pinpricks, both hot and cold at the same time. I shiver with the exquisiteness of the experience, not sure what I prefer better; him stretching me anew or the slippery, tugging glide back out. Whichever way, it's the most erotic, stimulating sensation I've ever felt and I want to give that same feeling to Yazoo so I start entering him as Kadaj withdraws from me, sinking into my second brother's temptingly tight warmth like I want to get lost in it, want to bury myself in it, in him.

"Ah. Ahh, yes," Yazoo begins coaxing, arching up into me and sliding his hands around my upper arms. "Love me, Loz."

I respond by sliding back into to him while closing my mouth upon his throat and thirstily sucking the salt from his perfectly pale skin, leaving behind dark purple bruises that I know will be gone by tomorrow. I soon discover that being the one in the centre means that I end up doing most of the work but it also means I can decide how fast we go and how deep. If it was up to Kadaj he'd be banging me quickly and crudely from behind but then I couldn't get into a proper rhythm with Yazoo and we'd be all clumsily out of sync with each other. With me being the pace-setter we have a steadier tempo and I'm not forced to take more of Kadaj's thrusting than I feel comfortable with. He's figured out that he doesn't need to move much; he can just kneel there on the bed and let me rock back onto him and then benefit from the friction as I pull away. All he has to do is make sure he doesn't slip out. Likewise, Yazoo can simply lie under me and let himself be loved, although he's moving more than Kadaj is, raising and swivelling his hips as I push into him, heightening the enjoyment for me as well as himself. As he rubs his hardness on the muscular ridges of my belly, his eyes are closed in rapturous enthrallment and his face is tipped blindly up to the ceiling but I can sense the orgasm that Kadaj denied him earlier beginning to rise once again and knowing that he's getting more and more excited gets me worked up too.

Also sensing the anticipation between us, Kadaj begins bumping into me, driving a little deeper each time and giving those same short, quiet grunts I heard him do before, when he was doing this to Yazoo. Holding my waist, he shifts his position slightly and something about his angle makes a strong bolt of lust slice through my gut with every bump he gives me. It's a peculiar feeling, almost hurting but not quite and I can't get enough of it. My breathing turns harsher and I begin pushing back against him, seating him further in me, relishing the way those grunts of his change into longer, lower groans. An ordinary boy of his age would be squirting his juices all over the place by now but Kadaj remains strictly controlled, timing and delaying his approaching climax so that it will match with ours, proving that he is far from an average teenage kid. I'm still not one hundred percent sure what he is exactly myself; the only thing I'm sure of is that whatever he's doing to me, it's working for all of us. His pleasure is my pleasure, and my pleasure becomes Yazoo's.

Like he is indeed a psychic mind-reader, Kadaj remarks heatedly, "You can feel me, can't you, Yazoo? You feel me in you as I'm in your older brother."

"Yes," Yazoo whispers. "I feel you. I can feel you both."

Though he must know this already Kadaj demands, "And how do we feel?"

"So good. Oh Gods, Kadaj…" Yazoo moans in overwhelming joy. "So extremely, exceptionally good…"

"Loz?" Kadaj asks in an expectant tone.

"What he said," I announce breathlessly. "Feel you both. Good."

"Then let us come, my brothers," Kadaj instructs authoritatively, like the pack-leader he is. "Let us all come together."

"'Bout damn time," I grumble, intensifying the speed of my strokes.

With one ultimate aim we move, giving and receiving, pushing and pulling, Yazoo's legs around me and Kadaj grasping my upper arms for balance. We don't have much of a rhythm anymore but it doesn't matter because we're nearly there, all of us tensing and straining, building higher and higher towards the ultimate plane of oblivion.

"More. Need more," Yazoo commences gasping. "Hard, Loz. Hurt me. Please, please, please…"

Hearing him beg so needily and frantically causes me to start swearing non-stop and I fuck Yazoo the way he wants, harder and faster than I did before, with an unmerciful savageness like I'm trying to shatter his perfect porcelain beauty, wanting to break his slender form in half and brutally bust him open, leaving him bleeding and broken on the bed like a beaten-up whore. As ferociously aggressive as I am towards my thinner brother, I know he can handle it, just like he could handle being cruelly tortured for hours on end in the name of scientific research. Knowing the same about my levels of endurance, Kadaj is doing the exact thing to me; fucking me like he wants to kill me with his cock, deep stabs of pleasure knifing through my core with each vicious jerk of his hips, all three of us crashing together, colliding, slamming each other violently into the mattress with the sounds of smacking flesh and sticky skin. Mako energy surrounds us in a dazzling green glow; surging through us like emerald flames, blazing brighter and hotter until we are blinded by it, burning up with it, consumed by it.

"Now," Kadaj pants with urgency. "Now, now. Right now!"

I am not certain who is the first to explode as it seems to happen at the same time; my rough, ramming thrusts sending Yazoo over the edge, his thighs locking tight around my waist and fingers clutching my forearms, almost hard enough to crush bone. Desperately calling both my name and Kadaj's he bucks with fierce ecstasy underneath me, his gushing liquids coating my stomach. As I'm coming with Yazoo I'm groaning into his scented hair with mindless delirium, spilling myself unstoppably in his hot gripping body; my own shudders and muscular contractions clenching at Kadaj to the back of me. He cries out to Mother in attainment, hips shoving sharply against me, his nails digging into my biceps. I feel him erupting within the centre of my tightened belly; his life-force pouring out and blending with my own, becoming part of me, while mine merges with Yazoo's. Generated by our synchronized release, a shockwave of electricity thunders through the room, furniture scraping across the floor with the ultrasonic blast and objects rattling on shelves, some of them falling off and smashing onto the ground. The bed itself lurches beneath us, wooden headboard cracking against the stone wall as they hit, small pieces of rock and mineral crystal dropping from the high ceiling and clattering all around us. There is a low, humming vibration in the air and then it rolls away, passing through the walls and absorbing into the atmosphere, leaving it resoundingly quiet and still here in our sleeping chamber.

"Oh my Gods, oh my Gods," Yazoo is whimpering over and over, shivers of unbearably acute sensation still coursing through his limbs, making him twitch and jolt under me. I'm trembling convulsively too, all my muscles feeling weak and worn-out as though I've been pumping iron in the gym for too long. Even Kadaj is shaking uncontrollably, my panting little brother hanging tightly onto me like he might collapse from drained dizziness. I know how he feels. My head is still spinning crazily from the colossal burst of power we just created and if I tried to stand up I'd just topple over again.

Arms too wobbly to support me anymore, I wearily drop to my elbows, leaning my forehead on Yazoo's, our eyes closed and shallow breaths mingling. He feels feverish, the hair falling across his brow damp with perspiration. My whole body is pulsing from temple to toe and there is sweat cooling and evaporating on every square inch of my skin.

"Is everyone all right?" Kadaj inquires in a tired tone. I grunt and Yazoo gives an assenting nod, both of us too stunned and exhausted to speak just yet. Yazoo uncrosses his ankles from around my waist, gingerly lowering his legs, as if they're cramped and aching, which they surely must be by now. Lying limply on the bed, my long-haired brother weakly lifts his left hand for Kadaj to take, their fingers lacing together in that constant need for each other's touch. Not forgetting me, Yazoo hooks an arm around my neck while Kadaj wraps his around my torso, hugging me close and pressing their clasped hands to the top of my chest. We allow a few soundless minutes to recover from our spectacular triple climax, Yazoo beneath me and Kadaj still behind me, his flushed cheek resting against my back while he listens to my heartbeat, the rapid thuds gradually slowing down and turning more regular, perfectly in time with his own and Yazoo's, our three hearts beating as one.


	9. Epilogue

A/N: Hey, guys! I'm sooooo happy you all loved the last chapter, with the threesome. I'd never really done one of those before so I'm glad it turned out well and contained the hotness and love I was trying to portray. Special thanks to:

IA1979 - Using their orgasmic powers as a weapon? Hm. Great idea but their enemies might be slightly confused when they all unzip their pants and start jacking off at the same time! That scene in the forest where they're shooting at Cloud would take on a whole other perspective... XDDD

Ah, yeah. Making Yazoo say slutty lines is one of my favourite things in the world! Honestly, I'm not sure either who I'd rather be out of the three of them. I couldn't decide! But as the writer of their story, I get to see all the raunchy action from the outside (and manipulate them into doing /exactly/ what I want, heh heh...)

Of course Daj joined in! Can't forget that hot, crazy little remnant. *has a secret soft spot for him* Even if he can be a bit of an ass at times, I still think he loves his older brother. Oh, I truly hope this was what they got up to when they weren't chasing Cloud, battling the Turks or looking for Mother. *indulges in improbable fantasies* Thanks so much for your comments!

kiki-slasha – I hope you're all right! And that no bits of rock fell from the ceiling onto your head while reading the last part. XD I love the idea of Loz being in the middle, being loved by both of his brothers at once. I think it was the only way to really make them bond and for Loz to realise how needed he is and what a valuable part he plays in the trio. It also shows his obedience to Kadaj and his willingness to please his little brother. I thought about making Yazoo be the one in the middle but then Loz would miss out on 'connecting' with Kadaj, and besides, Kadaj gets to screw Yaz's sexy ass all the damn time. lol

You love my brothercest? Well, I love your doll-smut! (Seriously, peoples – if you have not read the amazing fic kiki-slasha is writing with BMIK called Deus Ex Machina (where Yazoo is a love-doll/robot/slave) you are missing an effin' hot AWESOME story! I highly, highly recommend it and I don't normally do that with many stories so yeah, go read it and gush over their combined talentedness!)

xxRainbow-muffinsxx – Thank you, my dear! If I see 'holy' and 'fucking' in one sentence of feedback, I know I've done my job properly! I'm so happy you enjoyed it. :)

Now, to the epilogue...

…………………

As a result of my scientifically-manufactured heritage, I've always felt like a gaijin, a foreigner, belonging not to this world or any other. I'm part human, part alien and part phantom but not fully one or the other and it makes me feel set apart, different. Strange. Sometimes I've even felt like an outcast in my own family but not anymore. Not after this. Not after what we just shared. Here, embraced by my two silver-haired, cat-eyed, equally-strange siblings, enfolded and enveloped by both of them at once… this is where I fit in. This is where I belong. This is how it should be, not just for me but for all of us.

Complete. Three parts of a whole, joined and bonded for the rest of existence. Our minds and souls have always been inexplicably intertwined and now our bodies have been too. There are no boundaries between us any longer, no barriers, no secrets. No shame.

I'm sure people would think that what we've just done is wrong. I'm well aware of what incest is and I'm well aware that we've just committed it but you know what? Fuck what people think. We're bad guys. We're evil. If we wanna do bad things – or things considered 'bad' or 'unnatural' by the rest of normal society - we damn well will. If we're going to sin, we'll do it in style, just like we do everything else. Our time on this planet is too short to have regrets and the only thing I regret about this experience is that we didn't do it sooner.

Besides, how can something so incredible and powerful be wrong? How can the unbreakable strength of our spiritual connection be wrong? How can it be when laying here in the arms of my brothers fills me with such peace, such calmness and joyous happiness?

Anything that makes me feel this good must be right and I'll kill anyone who says otherwise.

Eventually, I draw back from Yazoo's intimately warm embrace to look at him, checking that I didn't hurt him too much with the force of my passion. I know he asked for it and I also know our flesh repairs quickly but I didn't really want to cause him actual harm so as I carefully slide out I'm glad that he doesn't show any pain. Instead, he gazes up at me with heavy-lidded eyes, blinking dreamily; appearing sated and beautifully blushed with purple love-bites all over his white neck and the subtle sheen of materia glimmering under his skin. Even now, after being thoroughly and sinfully ravaged in the rawest and most immorally depraved way by his own brothers, he still looks like a pure, shining angel.

"So, Loz," he says with his soft musical murmur. "Do you finally trust us? Do you believe that we need you? That we want you?"

Kadaj leans forward to speak to me, his voice a silky caress against the side of my face. "That we love you? And would give our lives for you? Do you believe that now, brother?"

Suddenly choked up, I can only gruffly reply, "Yeah," believing it, knowing it, with every mutated molecule of my being. I love them back so much it hurts; my chest and throat tightening so that I can hardly breathe. Overcome by the depth and intensity of my feelings, I start to cry again, only this time nobody makes fun of me for it. Not even Kadaj. He just squeezes me soothingly, kissing my temple, before Yazoo pulls me down to his shoulder, stroking my hair and comforting me until I settle and hush. Kadaj reclines next to us, putting one arm around me and nestling his head into Yaz's other shoulder.

Yazoo – our middle brother; the tranquil one, the mediative one, the one who balances my hot-headedness and Kadaj's insatiable need for power, the one who keeps us from separating and keeps us stable. We need him. We need each other. We're all we've got in this world.

At least until we find Mother.

Which we will. Big brother Cloud and his friends are going to tell us where she is. We'll make them. We're good at making people do stuff. Kadaj has it all planned out and Yazoo and I are ready to follow his instructions, to take his orders, no matter how crazy or insane they sound. We'll do whatever is necessary to locate Jenova's cells because we must have them. Kadaj /must/ have Mother. Nothing can happen without her and his desperation is getting more and more urgent by the hour. His Reunion is coming. Soon. We can all feel it.

I'm not afraid anymore of what will happen when Kadaj becomes our Father. I'm not afraid of him dying or being taken away from me because it's impossible. He can never be taken away from me. Even if he is, even if he dies, I'll soon join him. And so will Yazoo. We cannot exist without each other so if one of us gets pulled back into the Life Stream, the remaining two will follow. No matter what happens on that day, none of us will be left behind, left to grieve, left alone. We cannot be separated, not ever, not by bullets or swords or bombs, not even by death's black claws, and knowing that makes all my doubts and uncertainty about finding Mother and the potential destruction she or Sephiroth could unleash upon us all just dissolve into nothingness, leaving me peaceful and trusting that whichever way that momentous event unfolds, whatever occurs – good or bad – it's meant to be. We'll survive it and continue to subsist, in one form or the other. Somehow, I just know this. The planet could explode into a billion bits and scatter throughout the cosmos like specks of sand and we'd still stay this way forever.

Together.

But the world is not ending just yet. We still have a bit more time left to ourselves – just to be US - and for now we will stay in bed and rest, our bond repaired and reforged; content to say nothing and simply bask in each other's quiet closeness, all of us still gently glowing with the residual energetic field created by our intense, almost violent, lovemaking. I'm a little sore, a little bruised, but a whole lotta happy and I can't wait to do it all over again.

Just before I drift off to a well-earned sleep with the familiar warmth and scent of my two beautiful brothers surrounding me, their bare skin pressed to mine, Kadaj's arm draped protectively across my back and Yazoo's soft hair under my cheek, I have one final, comforting thought that sends me smiling into slumber.

Loz definitely ain't left out no more.

END

…………

A/N: Yes, it's over. *is wistful and sentimental* Again, I want to thank each and every person who has reviewed and given feedback on this fic. Your comments mean the world to me and I cherish every word I get. Whatever you choose to call it - clonecest, remlove, brothercest – it surely is the hottest, most beautiful thing ever, as the boys all are too. I know they didn't get a happy ending in the movie but if we keep writing about Kadaj, Yazoo and Loz, and keep reading about them (and loving them), they're never truly gone. They're not just memories. They're alive and we keep them alive with the depth of our love and the power of our passion for them. May the SHM live on forever in our hearts and minds!

*hugs and sniffles*

Rina

XXX


End file.
